


Inheritance of a demon

by WoodiestComic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Classic torture, Dean Has Powers, Dean has Stockholm syndrome, Dean in Hell, Family Issues, Gen, Hell Hounds, Post trauma experiences, Self-Harm, Seriously Dark, Seriously I have studied torture, Stockholm Syndrome, Supernatural - Freeform, Torture (read at own risk), Torturer Dean, daeva, did I mention torture?, shadow demons, torturer Alastair
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 16:55:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 36,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5171996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoodiestComic/pseuds/WoodiestComic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is taken back to earth by angels where he is reunited with Sam. But how will his old mentor react when he finds his best student gone? Alastair is not yet ready to let go of Dean Winchester, and so the brothers soon find themselves in deeper trouble that Lilith and her apocalypse. For what happens when one of hell's greatest demons travel to earth to take back what's his?  And how will Dean react to seeing his old master in the flesh of a pediatrician? </p><p>Alastair will have what's his, no matter what the angels say about it. And did Dean really want to be saved in the first place?</p><p>On HIATUS</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Where is he?!” Alastair yelled, his voice echoing through the depths of hell. The ground shook at his rage, red lightning booming over the tar-like sky. The demon before him cowered in fear, wishing itself anywhere but in front of the powerful demon. But there was no escaping Alastair’s wrath.

  
“Where is Dean Winchester?” This time Alastair targeted the demon, his raspy voice hissing dangerously into it’s ear, sending cold chills down it’s spine. Alastair’s milky white eyes sparked in fury. His favorite toy, his best pupil, was missing. If anyone had touched Dean, they would know the full extent of his power in the most painful of ways. The demon he was now gripping by the throat let out a choking answer. Alastair loosened his grip just enough for the demon to speak.

  
“The angels… they took him back to earth” Alastair didn’t blink at the snap of bone. The demon fell, lifeless to the ground and Alastair crushed it’s skull with his foot, just for good measure. So the angels thought they could just take Dean? Break his toys, and he got angry, take his toys and he would bring hell to earth if that’s what it would take to get it back.

  
But Alastair was no fool. He would not bring the war to the angels; just retrieve what was rightfully his. Dean was not even a shell of the man he once was. Not even angels could break what Alastair himself had built from the broken pieces of the righteous man’s soul. Dean was one of the most loyal pupils, the most obedient of them all.

“Angels won’t stop Dean, nothing will” He mumbled before disappearing in a cloud of dark smoke and sulfur.


	2. Chapter 2

_Dean studied the silver scalpel locked between his fingers. The woman’s eyes widened at the sight of the red light reflecting of the shiny surface of the blade. Alistair was standing in the corner of the small cell, observing Dean’s work with fascination. He’d only been in hell for a few years as a corrupted, and he was already so far down the road, so close to demonic. A wicked grin spread across his face with satisfaction. Dean was his design, his accomplishment. The woman screamed in pain as the blade slowly slid down her stomach, cutting deeply into her flesh. Her screams were drowned out by the sound of Dean’s heart beating in his chest. His blood was boiling at the high of torture. It was strange how quickly hell had grown into the role of home to Dean. Where people saw blood and terror, he could only see beauty. His soul was dark long before he came to hell, and the only thought keeping him on track was not to disappoint Sam. In hell he was free to do whatever he wanted, no Sam holding him back, no feelings of regret or sorrow. Just the thrill of cutting deeper and deeper into the flesh of sinners. And what did it matter who they put in front of him? In the end, they were all sinners._

_Alastair gave him a satisfied smirk. Dean’s back straightened. The only one he would listen to was Alastair, the one who’d shown him the other way of life. Many demon’s had tried ordering him around, but if the order didn’t come directly from Alastair himself, Dean couldn’t be moved. There was something about his mentor that just held power over him, and though it would have bothered him while he was still alive, he couldn’t give two craps about it now, not here. This was hell, and Alastair made the rules he would follow, which were down to zero. Every trick he knew, he’d learnt from Alastair._

_And cutting into the people he was given, taking his anger out on others, was the best feeling in the world. But today, Alastair had brought him a special surprise. She was a gift to him from his mentor._

_“Please Dean! I’ve said yes! How many times do I have to say yes?!” Bela pleaded through her pained shrieks. Dean looked down at her, eyes drained of any emotion they once possessed. His eyes were no longer the startling green they once were, but dark and empty. He was a corruption, between human and demon, but he was slowly pulling towards the latter. Dean leaned forward, his mouth almost touching her earlobe as he whispered softly:_

_“Till I accept it” And thus he started carving again, slowly peeling her skin away, layers at the time. Bela let out another cry in agony._

Dean’s eyes snapped open and he gasped. Startled, his eyes scanned the room. The dirty cell was gone, replaced by a relatively clean motel room. Sunlight flowed through the curtains, illuminating the ugly yellow walls. Dean was still panting, his skin clam with cold sweat. In the other room he could hear Sam finishing his shower. Where he should have felt calm wash over him, he only felt another cold shiver down his spine. The memories still came flowing through his mind, only slowly and calmly, allowing him to drink them in one at the time. Once again, the distinct feeling of anger bubbled in his veins. He could feel the hate all the way to his bones. Unable to stop it, he let out a low snarl, feeling it burn through him.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice broke through the painful silence. Dean’s head snapped up, meeting his brother’s confused gaze. He hadn’t even noticed Sam was done with his shower. The feeling of hate and rage disappeared as fast as it appeared.

“You okay man?” Sam asked. Dean nodded slowly, though his confused mask probably melted away under his pained expression. He was thankful when Sam decided not to question it. His brother had been acting different ever since he got out of hell, but so far he wouldn’t talk about any of it. Still, an uneasy feeling stirred beneath his skin. Dean shifted uneasy in his bed, straightening his back.

“Bobby find anything?” Dean asked, more to change the subject than actually wanting to work. Sam shook his head and walked over to his bed where he’d neatly stashed a clean change of clothes. A pair of blue jeans and a grey shirt to cover his white T-shirt. His hair was still dripping wet, the water making his hair look even longer than usual. Dean had never gotten why Sam wanted to have so long hair, but he didn’t really stick his nose into it. After Sam was dressed and his hair at least semi-dry, he fished out his beloved laptop. A small smirk formed on Dean’s lips when Sam slammed the laptop closed again only seconds after opening it.

“Dude! How many times have I told you to lay off my computer!” Sam shouted, almost throwing the laptop at Dean. Dean was sure that had it been a mug of hot coffee and not his computer he’d thrown it and watched Dean cry in agony as coffee ate away at his skin and he slipped on broken porcelain pieces. He could almost see himself falling over and landing in a buddle of coffee and blood mixing. The image sent a strangely pleasant chill through his body. Dean quickly shook himself.

“Yours works better than mine” Dean said, hiding the satisfied grin playing across his lips. Sam mumbled a few curses to himself as he slowly opened his laptop and exited the porn page Dean had left open. Dean opened his mouth to say something witty, but was cut off by Sam’s phone buzzing. His brother practically threw himself at the phone lying on his bed. He didn’t fail to notice how Sam’s shoulders slumped once he saw who had called him.

“Hi Bobby” Sam said once he’d picked up the phone and put it on speaker.

“Hey boys. Listen, I got something that might be up our alley” Bobby greeted. The two brothers exchanged thoughtful looks before turning their attention back towards the phone.

“Shoot” Dean said.

“17 year old Rachel Brown was reported missing from Midland, Texas by her college roommate two days ago. Could be something for us,” Bobby explained.

“Or it could just be a normal kidnapping” Sam muttered. Dean cast him a quick glare, but didn’t say anything.

“Yeah, or it could be demonic possessions or something else supernatural. Will you two idjits just check the damn thing out. If I’m wrong then I’m wrong, but if I’m right someone could get hurt. Would it hurt you two so badly just to check it out?” Bobby asked. Before Sam was able to throw in another protest, Dean cut it saying:

“We’ll check it out Bobby, no worries” He ignored the slight glare Sam threw his way. Bobby hummed in answer and hung up. Sam let out a big sigh, pulling his phone towards himself more aggressively than necessary. Dean could feel a small spark of anger deep in his chest, but pushed it aside before it was able to catch fire. Sam had acted differently ever since he got back of hell, more on edge, angrier. More on one occasion, Dean had been tempted to take the impala and never come back. Hell, he’d even been tempted to push his blade through Sam’s neck at one point. And though he knew he should feel ashamed and afraid of his own violent thoughts, he just couldn’t. It was like an instinct hell had burnt deep into his soul.

“Great, I guess all we’re gonna do now is pack our stuff and get in a car for hours” Sam said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Dean gave him a strange look. He couldn’t understand why a job had gotten his younger brother so worked up.

“Isn’t that what we always do?” Dean asked. Sam rolled his shoulders and Dean had to keep himself from wincing at the all-too familiar sound of bones popping. What seemed like a million memories of his own bones popping and snapping, and him breaking other’s bones, flashed through his mind.

“yeah, but Dean… you just got back from frickin’ hell. Don’t you think you deserve at least a small brake?” Sam argued. Dean tilted his head to the side, confused.

“We’ve been hunting for two weeks ever since I got back” He said simply as he reached for his bag at the foot of his bed. They had only arrived at the motel yesterday, so he hadn’t really unpacked much of his stuff. He got up from where he was sitting on the bed and headed of to the small dirty bathroom.

“Yeah, but not…” Sam trailed off, not allowing himself to finish. Dean frowned, grabbing his toothbrush and stuffed in into the small plastic bag along with his toothpaste.

“Not what, Sam?” He questioned as soon as he was out of the bathroom. Sam had already started packing his own bag full of weapons.

“Nothing” he said quickly. Dean didn’t buy that for one second. Before he had any time to react, he found himself right in front of Sam. His hand twitched, ached to feel the cool metal of a blade in his hand, blood slowing down his arms.

“No Sam, tell me” He said, his voice blank and emotionless. Sam looked taken aback by his sudden change in character, but somehow kept his composure. Dean could again feel the familiar feeling of ice-cold hate stir beneath the surface of his consciousness. What scared Dean the most however was that every instinct in his body told him to grab Sam’s neck and shake the information out of him. Again, his hand twitched in a strange longing for warm blood.

“Just… demons. Maybe after all you’ve been through, we should just lay of demons. At least in the start, ya know?” Sam said cautiously. Dean didn’t know if he should feel offended or happy that his brother was looking out for him. In the end he settled for a mix between the two. His shoulders slumped and he slowly backed away from Sam. Sam seemed to relax once he was out of his personal space.

“It’s fine Sam. After everything I’ve been through in hell, don’t you think I want to get back at one of those bastards?” He asked. Suddenly, his instinctive movement felt embarrassing. He was out of hell, the knife was gone, yet it seemed that so much still lingered within him. The thought made the hand printed scar on his shoulder itch, but he resisted the urge to scratch it.

Sam sighed, but didn’t say anything else. He just resumed packing his bag and his slow, unwilling movements caused a stinging pain deep in Dean’s chest. Part of him wanted to snarl at how ridiculous he felt, how stupid he’d acted. The other part wanted to just collapse on the ground and cry.

Who would have thought? Dean Winchester, the righteous man pulled out of hell by an angel, wanted to lie down and cry because he hurt his brother’s feelings.


	3. Chapter 3

“Samantha Miller? I’m agent Edward Dempsey, this is my partner; agent Jason Anderson. May we speak to you about your missing roommate Rachel Brown?” Dean said as soon as the door opened. Samantha was a young girl with curly blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. Dean could already tell she was a stuck-up bitch as soon as he saw the massive amount of pink eyeshadow she was wearing.

“I’ve already talked to the cops” Samantha said, but opened the door wider so they could enter. This wasn’t the apartment she’d lived in with Rachel. After the incident, she’d been sent to live with her parents until things were “cleared”. Dean gave Sam a slight nod and the two of them followed Samantha inside. Samantha showed them to a messy white couch and they both sat down. The couch was a bit too small, so the brothers ended up pressed against each other in an uncomfortable possession. Samantha settled down in the giant chair across the small glass table.

“Now, we gather you and Rachel were close friends?” Sam started, wanting to finish as quickly as possible so they could get out of the small couch. Samantha nodded.

“Yeah. We were like, BFF’s” Dean resisted the urge to snort. If anyone would be this girl’s best friend, they was either insane, or worse than herself. Samantha miller was one of those girls not even he wanted to be in bed with.  

“So you admit that you were close” Sam continued the questioning. Samantha nodded again.

“Did Rachel have any enemies, anyone who might want to hurt her” Dean decided to jump in. Samantha looked thoughtful for a second, then shook her head.

“No, I don’t think so. Rachel was like, the best girl ever. Everybody loved her”

“Samantha, what happened the day you reported Rachel missing? Don’t you think she could have just been out with someone or something? What makes you think she was missing?” Sam asked her. Samantha drew in a quick breath, her blue eyes tearing up. Before either brother could react, she was full-on crying. Dean resisted the urge to slap her across the face and shout “pull yourself together bitch”

“It was terrible! I was out late with this boy, Matt. He’s been crushing on me for so long and in the end Rachel said I should go out with him because he was like, her friend or something” Dean mentally rolled his eyes at how easily she trailed off. “I came home late and the door was unlocked, but I didn’t think anything of it cus Rachel said she would be home studying for this big test we have in biology this week. Oh my god… I’ve completely forgotten to study for the test with everything going on!” He felt his fists clench and his teeth grinding together angrily. If this girl couldn’t pull herself together soon, he was going to hurt her.

“Samantha, what happened when you got home?” Sam asked, his voice flat. Samantha nodded, getting herself back on her trail of thought. She brushed away the tears darkened by her not-so-waterproof mascara before continuing.

“So I went in, right? And everything was as it should’ve. But when I called out for her, she didn’t answer. I figured she’d just fallen asleep or something, but the door to her room was open and the light turned off. Rachel always closes her door when she’s going to bed. So like, I walk over there and called out her name again, but she didn’t answer. So I turn on the lights and… and… oh my god it was so horrible!” Samantha was again crying like a little pig waiting to be gutted, which was a far to tempting thought for Dean. He and Sam exchanged confused looks before Sam reached out a hand and patted her back. When her crying only increased, he stopped. What felt like hours later, Dean had finally had enough of her whining.

“Samantha, what did you find in the room?” He asked her, his voice taking on a slightly annoyed tone. Samantha looked up at him from the palms of her hands. Dean wasn’t surprised to see that her makeup was now completely ruined, making her resemble a child who’d been allowed to play with paint.

“The walls, they were covering in some sort of message written in blood. I didn’t understand any of it though, it didn’t make any sense” Sam and Dean nodded. Far to many minutes later they found themselves entering the impala. Dean sighed in relief at finally leaving the damned house. A few more minutes with that bitch and he would have gutted her like the makeup-wearing pig she was. Sam seemed just as relieved to leave as he did, though Dean would bet his life that his brother hadn’t felt the same violent impulses he had. Surprisingly he didn’t feel angry at himself or guilty for fantasizing bout Samantha’s death the entire time they were inn there. He could practically hear Alastair’s mocking voice say “old habits die hard”.

“So, crime scene then?” Dean asked. Sam nodded and without another word, Dean started the impala’s engine. A pleasant shiver ran down his spine as soon as his baby let out a low rumble like that of a lion. One of the things he’d missed the most when he was in hell was the sound of the impala’s engine purring. He let out a long whistle, earning a familiar bitchface from Sam. A few seconds later and they were on their way towards the crime scene.

The witness who’s name he’d already forgotten had told them about the strange smell of rotten eggs, so the brothers were sure that this was in fact a demon case. Dean couldn’t help long for the scent. For forty years it had been everything around him. Blood, sulfur and smoke had been his entire existence, along with Alastair’s blade of course. The thought of Alastair brought forth a strange itch in his stomach and a cold shiver ran down his spine.

“Are you sure about this Dean?” Sam asked suddenly, snapping Dean out of his thoughts. He cast his brother a quick glance. Had Sam noticed him zone out? Sam wasn’t even looking at him, instead finding the world outside his window a lot more fascinating. Dean was thankful that Sam hadn’t seen him stare off into nothing instead of looking at the road like he should.

“About what?” He asked.

“About hunting a demon. You sure you can handle it?” Dean’s grip around the steering wheel tightened. This time he managed to keep the feeling of anger seeping into his veins under pressure, not wanting Sam to see that side of him again.

“Sam…” Dean trailed off, biting his lower lip. How could he convince Sam he was in fact okay with hunting a demon. He didn’t even know why his brother was so worked up about it. Before he could come up with a good answer however, Sam jumped in.

“Never mind… I shouldn’t have brought it up” The rest of the short drive to the apartment building was quiet, as both brothers stared out onto the road ahead of them.

Dean instantly felt it as soon as the car pulled over and he stepped out. He could smell the strong scent of sulfur, bitter and hot, yet strangely welcoming. The air around him vibrated with demonic power and the feeling of familiarity settled down in the pit of Dean’s stomach. He could feel his soul ache and call out for whatever had been there. One thought stood out between all other: _Father_. But it couldn’t be him, Alastair had always told him how much he despised earth. Dean could have, hell, he should have felt bad for it, but part of him seemed to twitch in a mix of fear and joy. He didn’t even notice how he drew in the smell of demonic activity like a bloodhound catching the scent of a hotdog.

The apartment was on the second floor. It wasn’t hard to find, seeing as they just had to ask one of the many college students running around the block. None of them said a word as they got into the elevator that slowly took them to the second floor.

“Third door to the left” Sam reminded, though his remark was completely unnecessary. The door was covered with yellow police tape telling them to “keep out”. Dean fished out his knife from the pocket of his jacket and cut through it with ease. The door was locked, but that was nothing Sam’s lock picking couldn’t fix. Dean kept watch as Sam worked, making sure no one saw them break into the apartment.

“Got it” Sam muttered and the door swung open. The smell of sulfur washed over them, making Sam cringe in disgust. Dean however, had a completely different reaction. He drew in the scent to the point that he could taste it on his tongue. The strong bitter-sweetness and rotting smell brought tears to his eyes, but he didn’t care. It was just so damn welcoming, so powerful it was like being back in hell again. Something that should have sparked panic and fear in Dean, yet he was surprisingly calm as he entered without second thoughts. Sam stayed close behind him.

Like Samantha said, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Dean turned and gave Sam a small nod as they approached what must have been Rachel’s bedroom. The first and biggest room they saw was the living room where not even a speck of dust was misplaced. Dean spotted a pinch of yellow dust, which he recognized as sulfur. His body felt oddly drawn towards it, like a magnet making him lightheaded. He had to focus on the bedroom door. It too was covered in yellow police tape, but it was loose enough for Dean to just pull away.

Dean’s hands were shaking, though not out of fear as much as a strange high that washed over him. Slowly, he reached out for the door handle and opened the door. The moment his eyes fell on the wall, his body froze and he was thrown back into a thick swirl of memories.

_“That’s good Dean, you’re already learning!” Alastair whispered into his ear. Dean shivered as Alastair’s cold breath brushed against his literally burning skin. The white-eyed demon grinned widely, bringing the burning poker down again. Dean screamed in pain as the red metal licked his skin. He could feel the poisonous flames seep into his flesh, but was powerless to do anything about it._

_“Let’s do it again” Alastair chuckled. “I show you the letters and you say which one it is” Dean gritted his teeth until he could taste blood  on his tongue. His teeth had been pushed further up into the gums, but that was the least of his worries. He’d been his hell for seven years now, yet Alastair still managed to surprise him with new methods of torture. Slowly, the flames in front of him took shape, swirling and edging until they formed a strange symbol. Dean shook his head, only to be rewarded with the burning poker, once again licking down his back. He screamed as pain wrapped around him. His back must have been completely gone at this point._

_“E” Dean cried. Alastair seemed satisfied with the answer and removed the poker. Dean barely had time to sigh in relief before the flames in front of him changed shape once again._

_“B” Dean said as he recognized the letter. The demonic alphabet was a strange one, and he’d been through agony ever since Alastair had decided to teach it to him. The demon had explained how few souls had the honor of learning such ancient symbols, though Dean couldn’t see how lucky he was yet. Alastair had assured him that one day he would thank him for having taught him this alphabet._

_The flames changed again. “A” again “Z” again “S” Again the flames changed, thought this time Dean just stared at it, eyes widening once he realized he couldn’t remember which letter it was. Alastair tapped his long claws against his skin impatiently, poking one of the many blisters that now covered Dean’s back._

_“Eehh…” Dean said, instantly regretting it. Alastair never hesitated bringing the poker down on his back._

_“H” He said, painting a burning H on Dean’s back. Dean couldn’t really see it, but he felt the burning letter on his back making his skin bubble on ooze. “It’s H” Alastair repeated, hissing the words into Dean’s ear. A cold chill ran down his burning spine, mixing in with the pain of hell’s fire._

_Day by day Alastair would force the letters into Dean’s mind, deep into his subconscious. Whenever the young hunter failed, the torture was never far behind. The strange symbols became something Dean could never forget, even if he wanted too. And They were a constant reminder of pain and misery._

His eyes scanned over the symbols, symbols he knew by heart. Dean could feel a strange tingling sensation on his back, but managed to ignore it. The message was clear, clear as day.

“What the hell is this? Some sort of ancient language?” Sam asked, moving closer to the letters. Dean was almost tempted to snort and reply “Oh you have no idea”, but found it better to just be quiet and read the message over and over again.

_Abandoned warehouse, midnight._ He read with surprisingly little effort. He hadn’t really thought about the alphabet since he’d gotten out again, but seeing them now, in front of him… All feelings he possessed seemed to mix. I felt scared, scared because what should have been his worst nightmare was walking the earth. Scared that no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t push away the small voice telling him that it was okay, that his mentor would find him and take him back home.

There was no doubt now. Alastair was here. Dean hated himself so much for feeling excited. He shouldn’t be excited for this! Alastair was a demon, a very powerful demon and _his_ torturer! His _mentor._ A little voice hissed at him, but he reluctantly pushed it away.

“I have no idea. Take a picture though, perhaps Bobby knows something” Dean said after a while. His eyes traced the message, studied it. It was carefully written in blood. Of course Alastair wouldn’t bother to pick up a sharpie or a can of spray paint, why would he do that when the victim had so much blood to offer? Dean thought sarcastically to himself as he mentally rolled his eyes.

“There’s definitely been demonic activities here. Don’t think I’ve ever smelled sulfur this strongly before” Sam muttered as he snapped the picture. Dean just nodded. He could still taste the sulfur on his tongue and he was stuck between gagging or just draw it in like his instincts told him to. Sulfur was hell, and hell would always be part of him.

“Shall we get going? I doubt there’s much more here other than the message. And the quicker we get back to the motel, the quicker I can start researching the symbols” Sam asked, snapping Dean out of his thoughts.

“Yeah. Yeah let’s get going” Dean muttered, surprised at how weak his voice sounded. Sam gave him a strange look, but Dean turned away before he could question it. His face flushed red and he hurried out of the apartment.

Unnoticed by anyone, the brothers made their way back to the car. Sam ended up being the one who drove them back to the motel, and though Dean would normally wouldn’t let his brother drive without a fight, he just couldn’t fight now. He could barely talk. His mind was swimming out of his reach, and most of the ride he just stared out of the window, concentrating on the strange feeling of loss that washed over him.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean was lying in his motel bed staring at the white ceiling. Sam was sitting at the small table in what could have resembled a living room. The TV was on, though neither brother payed any attention to the classic cartoons playing freely. Sam had already sent the picture of the strange message to Bobby, and the two of them were now working on finding out what it meant. A message like that wasn’t just left for nobody to understand it, that defied the entire idea of leaving a message. At least that’s what Sam told himself as he stared at his computer screen in vain.

“You know, this would go a lot faster if you’d help me” Sam complained for the third time since they’d gotten back. Dean only grunted in response, earning an annoyed sigh from his younger brother. Dean was far too deep in thought to even notice. The ever-present sound of Tom chasing Jerry around slowly faded away as his world seemed to be pulled into the white ceiling.

He could hear the clock on the nightstand table tick by, far too slowly. All he could think about was that message on the wall. He’d read it over and over in his mind. Everyone of Dean’s instincts told him that this was for him. It was a message written only for his eyes, and no one else were supposed to see it. There was only one person who could have taken the time to leave a message like that, knowing that Dean would bite. Alastair, his former torturer. _Master_ a small voice deep inside Dean’s mind whispered at him softly.

_Abandoned warehouse, midnight._ Dean thought to himself again, tasting the words on his lips, but didn’t say them out loud in fear that Sam would hear him. In the end, he sat up in and grabbed his own old computer. It wasn’t half as fancy as Sam’s, but it would do the job. Sam raised an eyebrow at him and Dean just shrugged. No words were needed. Sam thought that Dean was going to help him search for the symbols and Dean was going to find out where the message told him to be. It’s not like he would go there, not when Sam stuck around watching every move he made. Something pushed on the inside of Dean’s chest, a slow aching taking place. He grunted in discomfort and continued ignoring it the best he could.

Dean’s fingers moved swiftly over the keyboard. Only a few minutes later he’d managed to track down three different abandoned warehouses in town. He cursed silently to himself, starting the task of studying them all closely. If this really was Alastair, then he would follow a specific style. Someplace isolated and preferably old. One was in the middle of the city right next to a road. Dean instantly dismissed it. The other was right outside the city, but too close to the main road. It was the third one that caught his interest. It was a thirty-minute drive outside of town in the middle of a field near an abandoned farm. _A strange place to put a warehouse_ Dean thought, but noted the address down anyways.

“Found anything?” Sam asked, almost startling Dean with his presence.

“No, nothing so far. How ‘bout you?” He lied. Truth was he might have just hit jackpot, but if this really was Alastair, he wouldn’t want Sam anywhere near him. _Or maybe it’s so Alastair won’t pick Sam over you like everyone else?_ That small voice hissed again. Dean growled, shaking his head at it.

Another hour passed in silence, with only the TV and Sam’s loud keyboard making any sound. Dean had emptied the clock of it’s batteries 45 minutes ago. The sun was slowly fading out of view, bathing the city in darkness. Dean felt the aching in his chest increase, always tugging at him. _What are you doing out here? You should be out finding master!_ The small voice hissed at the back of Dean’s head, but was simply pushed away. Dean didn’t need Alastair anymore, he was out of the pit and back with his beloved brother. _But is this where you belong?_ The voice whispered. Dean growled at it, hitting his head hard against the pillow of his bed.

“Hey, how do you feel about pizza today? I saw a place just a few streets down” Sam said suddenly. Dean cocked his head to the side. He hadn’t seen anyplace they sold pizza on their drive back. He was about to dismiss the offer when his stomach growled at him. Maybe pizza wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Sure, let’s go” Dean said, moving to stand up from the bed. Sam quickly jumped to his feet and held out his hand in a stop motion.

“I’ll get it. You just stay here and research those symbols” Dean raised an eyebrow at him. He was just about to neglect the idea of Sam going off on his own, especially to get Dean pizza. The kid had no taste in good food, and he refused to eat another one of his veggie-healthy-thingies.

But maybe some alone time was just what he needed to clear his head? He could grab the bottle of Jack without Sam’s questioning stare and drink himself to sleep until Sam returned.

“Alright, but none of those veggie-pizzas or I swear to God I’m sending you back there” He said finally, relaxing back in the bed. For a second he could have sworn he saw Sam sigh in relief. His eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t say anything. Sam grabbed his jacket and wallet, leaving without looking back. The moment Sam was gone, and surprisingly enough without the impala, Dean stood from his bed and headed towards the plastic bags on the table next to Sam’s computer. He pulled out the full bottle of Jack Daniel, opening it quickly and pressed the bottle against his lips. The liquid was strong, like warmth running down his throat and into his guts, spreading heat through his body.

_Abandoned warehouse, midnight._ The words echoed through his mind, tempting him to take a quick glance at the clock on Sam’s computer. The small white letters glowed against the dark background. 23:20, forty minutes to midnight. His minds traveled towards the abandoned warehouse he’d looked up earlier. A thirty-minute drive. Sam hadn’t taken the impala, which meant he’d probably walked and would take some time getting back. Just a quick look wouldn’t hurt, would it? What if the victim was still alive and he was expected to save her at midnight? Could he really risk the life of an innocent young college bitch?

The clock was 23:30 when Dean wrote a quick note. “Going to a bar” And placed it on Sam’s computer, knowing well enough that it was the first place Sam would see it. Then he left the motel room, not bothering to lock the door after him. The address was as clear as day inside his head as he got into the impala. A thirty-minute drive, and he would find whatever had been calling him. Doubt began to grow within him. What if it was too late? What if the message hadn’t been for him after all and he was walking unarmed into a warehouse full of demons? _What if Alastair isn’t there?_ He gritted his teeth, trying to push the thought away, but the thought refused to let go of his mind.

The warehouse was old and worn, metal doors covering from top to bottom with rust and dirt. Dean was shaking violently as he closed in on the door. Why was he even doing this? Was it too late to go back to the car and drive back to the crap motel? No… but he was so close. He could feel the air vibrate with power, tingling down his spine.

The doors creaked loudly when he pushed the open. There was only darkness inside, no sound other than his own unsteady heartbeat. For a second he considered calling out, but pushed the idea aside. Then he remembered the small flashlight he’d kept in his pockets. With shaking hands, he pulled it out and turned it on, light instantly filling the small room. At first he saw nothing unusual. Just another abandoned building in the middle of nowhere. Could he have been wrong? Maybe they had meant the warehouse right outside of town instead.

“No” He said out loud, shaking his head. “This has to be the place” And he continued further into what he assumed was a small brake room. His light flashed over a small sign that read “workspace” and he stopped. Alastair had always called the dungeon Dean was trapped in his workspace. A strange shiver prickled at his skin. The door opened easily enough and Dean felt around for a light switch, finding one right next to the doorframe.

Dean wasn’t sure of what he’d expected when light surprisingly enough flooded the room. Rachel Brown was strung up in the middle of the room, held up by meat hooks and chains. Her body was disfigured, covered with cuts all sizes. Her stomach was ripped open into a gaping hole where a few of her intestines still held on for dear life. Most of them were on the floor underneath her however, gathered in a small puddle of juices. Blood was splattered around the room, covering walls, floor and even the ceiling. Dean circled her, taking in the full sight. His stomach turned, though not out of how sick it was to see a young girl gutted and drained of blood, he’d seen enough of that in his time. Her back was carved open carelessly, the ribs bent and broken to fit outside of her body. The lungs were dangling in a few thin strips of tissue. She’d been shaved as well, her dark hair spread across the floor in small patches. Where her green eyes should have been, there were two gaping holes. Dean thought he saw the nerve ending of one of her eyes sticking out of her mouth.

Dean’s heart skipped a beat. The wounds weren’t as precise or delicate as Alastair, yet must have caused her a lot of agony before she died. He could practically hear her scream and beg for it to stop. The work was done with a lot of thought and care, but was too ripped and ragged to be his former mentor.

No… this wasn’t Alastair’s style at all…

It was his.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean was surprised when he came back and found the motel room empty. The note on his computer screen was untouched and the door was still unlocked. Everything was exactly like Dean had left it. Normally, Dean would give it second thoughts, but right now he felt too exhausted. The image of Rachel still stuck in his brain where it would most likely stay forever. He could still see the gaping holes where her eyes used to be, staring deep into his soul. Feel her blame him for her horrible and painful death. And the worst part? He didn’t care. He _couldn’t_ care even when he tried.

The first thing he did when he got back was grab the bottle of whiskey and chug it down. The warm liquid felt even better this time around, and so he collapsed onto the bed, bottle in hand. It was going to be a long night.

The door opened and Sam stepped inside, freezing at the sight of a half-conscious Dean lying on the bed.

“S’mmy?” Dean asked, eyes squinting at the sharp light. Sam sighed and it was everything Dean needed to know that it was in fact his brother coming in through the door. He struggled to sit up, dropping the empty glass bottle to the rugged floor. He swore, but didn’t do anything about it, just thankful that the bottle didn’t break. Sam placed the pizza down on the table, catching sight of the note on his computer screen.

“Dean…” He mumbled, but didn’t elaborate. Dean mumbled something to himself sleepily, reaching for the pizza. He hadn’t noticed until now that he was still hungry. Sam sighed, opening the box and handed him a piece. Dean was just about to bite down into the cheesy treat when the image of Rachel flashed through his mind. With more of an annoyed sigh than anything else he took a big bite of pizza. He wasn’t going to let some dead chick prevent him from eating.

That plan changed when he almost threw up his first piece. The cheese was too chewy, too… everything. His mind flashed back to his time in hell when he was forced to eat his still beating heart. Dean grunted, forcing the bite down before placing the pizza back in the box.

“Not gonna eat?” Sam asked him, looking up from his half eaten piece. Dean shook his head, feeling the beginning of a lump form in his throat.

“Nah, not that hungry anymore” He said, praying to every higher power there is that Sam wouldn’t notice how his voice seemed weaker than usual. Sam simply shrugged, taking another piece of his pizza.

That’s when the smell hit him. It was barely noticeable, but definitely there. Dean paused, sniffing the air. Having spent 40 years in hell had apparently increased his notice when sulfur filled the air.

“You smell that?” He asked. Sam tilted his head, shaking his head. Dean frowned deeply, taking another sniff in the air.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked. Dean didn’t answer at first. Just focused on the air around them, annoyed that he couldn’t pin point where the scent came from. It was too weak to be a demon, but what else could it be? Hell hounds, he’d found out, smelled ten times worse than demons. His eyes trailed towards Sam slowly. Was the scent coming from him? It would make sense, wouldn’t it? Sam, the boy cursed with demon blood. But why hadn’t Dean noticed it earlier?

“Dean?” Sam asked, waving his hand in front of Dean’s face. Dean jumped, startled.

“What?”

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked again. For a second he considered telling Sam the truth. But how in the world was he supposed to explain that he could smell Sam’s demon blood, if it even was Sam at all. Not to mention the insult if he told his baby brother he stank like a demon.

“Nothing… just thought I smelled something burning for a second. Never mind” He lied. Before Sam could ask further questions, he quickly added: “Well, I’m going to hit the hay, see ya in the morning” Dean headed off towards the small bathroom to brush his teeth.

The room was small, almost claustrophobic. With barely any room for a toilet pressed into the far corner and the shower in the other. Above the small, dirty sink was a mirror. Dean stared into it for what felt like an eternity, studying himself closely. His face was free of scars, free of anything that had ever hinted on him being a hunter and not some businessman with a big house. The angel’s must have gone through a lot of work fixing his body after he’d been torn up by hellhounds. Dean lifted his shirt to feel the smooth skin. After 30 years of intense torture, it no longer felt like his skin at all. He should have been covered in scars, burn marks and so much more.

Alastair had continually carved Dean’s (along with his own) name all over Dean’s chest. Saying that most demons forgot who they were, but he wouldn’t let him. Dean was apparently special enough to keep his own name, keep at least some of his human memories that came along with it. Dean brushed his fingers over his chest where “Dean Winchester” Had once been written so clearly in his own blood and flesh. Now there was nothing but smooth skin.

“Dean, are you done soon? There’s two of us you know” Sam said, knocking on the door. The sound was enough to pull Dean out of his thoughts. He quickly unlocked the door and rushed out, simply throwing off his clothes and crawled in under the blanket.

Suddenly he felt so exhausted, barely able to keep his eyes open. Slowly, his eyelids slipped close, head filling with the image of Rachel along with many other victims. Though he hadn’t killed Rachel himself, it still felt like him. Seeing her like that, no detail missing. It had been his own personalized style when he tortured souls in hell. Precise but messy, surgical but violent.

He could already tell it was going to be a bad night.

_“Oh Deano! You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to have you here on my own personal rack” The demon snickered, his long, bony fingers brushed over Dean’s cheek and tangled into his hair. A satisfied smirk covered the demon’s lips, showing off pointed teeth. Dean shuddered at the feeling of cold spread through his body from there the demon ad touched him._

_The only human about the demon was his shape. Two arms, two legs and one head. The rest was so unnerving Dean would have nightmares about it for the rest of eternity. It almost looked more like a torture victim than_ him _, only it was the one holding the knife. Broken shackles still clung on to it’s skinny arms, rusty and sharp. It’s skin was pale and cold with various crack where the glow of fire seeped through, burning the edges. Long white hair hung from it’s head, covering most of it’s face in oily tangles. A pair of white eyes stared down at him, almost sparking with sadistic pleasure. Dean also took notice of how it’s legs weren’t as human as he’d expected. Hooves clicked against the stone floor as it circled him, taking in it’s new prey. What Dean would call an old white curtain was wrapped around it’s waist, dragging behind it on the ground. Where the chest should have been, there was nothing but a gaping hole. A few ribs still stuck out, white glowing against the darkness of his insides. Dean could see the dried out lungs and heart, sunken back and hidden in the darkness._

_To say the demon’s true form scared him was an understatement. It petrified him._

_“Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Alastair, and as you’ve probably figured, you’re in hell. And we have an eternity to get to know each other” His pointed grin grew, twisting his face into something even more inhuman. Long fingers reached out for the various of knives he had on the table next to Dean, trailing over them like a child trying to pick the tastiest candy._

_“You heard of me?” Dean asked, remembering what the demon had said earlier. He’d been looking forward to see him here. Alastair had known he would show up. Then again, half of hell probably knew he was coming._

_“Oh yes. All of hell knows about you Dean. Though I will admit, I’ve been paying extra close attention to you. Your father mentioned you when I first asked him why he was down here I believe. Shame he got away when I was so close to my goal” The demon frowned at the memory. Dean gritted his teeth at the mention of his father._

_“You son of a bitch” He growled. Alastair’s eyes lit up and the grin returned._

_“There is that Winchester language I’ve missed. You father put up quite the struggle Dean, and I can only expect more from you. But that’s fine. After all, we have an eternity” he picked up a suitable knife, bringing it dangerously close to Dean’s chest._

_“So tell me Dean… why are you here?” He asked. Dean didn’t answer and before he had any time to react, the knife plunged into his chest. He bit his tongue, refusing to let the demon hear him scream. Alastair, it seemed, had quite the artistic hands. His cuts were long and precise, designed to cause as much agony as possible._

_“You better hurry up and tell me before I move onto your throat” Alastair noted. Dean shook his head reluctantly, banging it against the thick wooden rack supporting him. The pain in his head made him lightheaded and dizzy, but did nothing to stop the pain from his chest as the knife drew closer and closer towards his throat. He closed his eyes, fighting back the tears threatening to run down his cheeks. The pain was so precise, so agonizing. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before._ This is for Sammy; I’m doing this for Sam! _He thought to himself, though the words did little to comfort him. He’d soon learn that there is no comfort in hell._

_“Very well Dean. I can’t make you talk” Alastair said. He paused for a second, knife lingering in Dean’s flesh. “Oh wait… I can” And the knife cut deep into Dean’s Adam’s apple._

_Only one hour later Dean screamed. His scream gurgled in his blood-filled throat. The taste was foul and all too strong. Alastair allowed himself to enjoy the sound. One hour and Dean was already screaming. Maybe this would be easier than he thought._

_“Still haven’t told me why you’re here Deano” His tone was light, but the threat was clear. Dean opened his mouth, trying to push the sound through his broken throat. Blood gurgled with the word, blood stinging on the inside of his throat._

_“S…ssss-ssaaa-m” He croaked, gasping for air. Alastair’s eyes lit up again._

_“So you sold your soul for the boy-king? How predictable… Then perhaps it would do better if I looked like this?” Dean watched in horror as Alastair’s image shivered and blurred, making room for a new shape. Sam stood in front of him, hazel eyes burning with evil. Alastair’s malicious grin plastered onto his face, twisting it into something inhuman. Dean’s eyes widened in shock, staring at the perfect image of his little brother._

_“N-no”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! A demon's true form is really fun to play around with. I took some inspiration from Alastair's choice of vessels. usually they are slightly older fellas, ye? And he is by far one of the oldest demons in hell. I have a big surpriser for who Alastair really is for later in this fanfic. A little teaser for ye: He and Lilith has a VERY special bond. No not in that way XD 
> 
> Also, in my folk lore the devils are seen as humanoid creatures with hoovs. Like an old tale Fanitullen meaning Devil's mellody. So that is why Alastair has hoovs. Just to clear that out XD


	6. Chapter 6

“No… no please don’t” Dean mumbled in his sleep, closed eyes squeezed as pain darted through his body. He twitched, desperately trying to dodge the imaginary blade. Sam stared at him, feeling the heavy weight shift in his heart. This was all his fault. If he hadn’t been so careless, he wouldn’t have been killed by Jake and Dean wouldn’t have sold his soul. If he had been able to kill Lilith before Dean’s time was up, his brother wouldn’t have had to go through hell. The thought of Lilith was enough to send waves of anger pulsing through his being. God, how he hated her to the very pit of his heart.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and Sam quickly pulled it out.

“Hello?” He said into the phone, instantly relieved when Bobby’s voice replied:

“Hey Sam. I think I’ve found something on the symbols you sent me”

“Yeah?” Sam asked, hoping though seriously doubting that they were good news. Bobby continued.

“Demonic language. An old hunter mentioned in one of his diaries that he’d stumbled upon some strange symbols painted on the walls during world war two. After some investigation, he managed to capture a demon who told him it was their ancient alphabet. Though when he wanted the demon to translate the alphabet, it said that even it couldn’t read it, that only higher ranks were allowed to teach and learn it” Bobby explained. Sam was quiet on the other end, not knowing how to reply. Should he wake Dean and tell him? No… no Dean needed what sleep he could get.

“If this is the same thing, which I’m pretty sure it is, you boys are messing with something ancient. Apparently, not even normal demons can read this. You have to be one special cookie to know it” Sam nodded, though he knew Bobby couldn’t see him.

“You sure you can’t find some sort of translation for it?” He asked.

“Nothing so far. I’ll keep looking. Meantime you boys might wanna know that another vic has disappeared only a few towns away from you. She was reported missing only a couple of hours ago by parents. She went out, never came back. Looks to be the same style. No break-inn, no witnesses, mysterious message on the wall” Bobby gave him the address to the parent’s house and name of the victim. Amber K. Wallace had disappeared from 4144 Goosetown Drive.

“Alright. Thanks a lot Bobby” Sam said. Just as he was about to hang up, Bobby cut in another question.

“How’s he holdin’ up?” Sam instantly knew he was referring to Dean. He cast a sideways glance at his shivering brother tangled up in his blanket. The thick layer of cold sweat on his forehead reflected the light of the room. It was a sad sight. 

“Not good… sleeping currently, though not peacefully” He sighed. Bobby hummed as an answer, and Sam could practically see the old hunter shake his head.

“Right. I’ll see you boys soon” With the press of a button the phone line died. Sam was left alone in the darkness. When he lied down in his bed, sleep had felt hours away. Yet he woke up the next morning feeling well-rested for once. What surprised him even more was seeing his older brother already awake, sitting on his computer. Sam groaned as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

“Morning Sammy” Dean greeted, smiling down at his younger brother. Sam glanced at him, confused. Dean looked not only well-rested, he looked in a good mood. But Sam knew he’d have another nightmare. It was almost strange seeing his older brother so lively, especially on a morning.

“Dean?” Sam said groggily, unable to keep the confusion out of his voice. “What’s going on?” He asked.  Dean cast him a confused glance before going back to cleaning his favorite handgun.

“What do you mean?” Sam was about to answer, but found the words stuck in his throat. Dean, for once, looked like nothing was bothering him. His brother was smiling, cleaning his guns (which hadn’t been done ever since Dean first went to hell). The thought of ruining Dean’s good mood almost hurt.

“Nothing. Never mind” He said. Dean simply shrugged, going back to his gun with a small piece of cloth that used to be his favorite T-shirt. It almost seemed like old times again, like everything was fine and they were preparing for a simple ghost hunt or something. _Speaking of hunting_ , Sam thought, finding now a good time as ever to tell Dean what Bobby had told him yesterday.

“Hey, Bobby says he might be onto something” he started. At that moment Dean froze, like someone had just pressed the pause button. It lasted for only a second, but that was more than enough time for Sam to notice. However, he knew when Dean weren’t ready to talk about something, it was near impossible to make him talk. The youngest Winchester chose to ignore it for the moment. A small shiver ran down his spine, but he quickly shook it away.

“Yeah?” Dean asked, reaching out for another gun to clean. His fingers brushed again his sawed-off shotgun and he grabbed it easily, not even looking at Sam when he spoke. Instead, he focused on his gun. Dean was a master at hiding his emotions, but not to Sam. Never to Sam.

“Well. He says it might be some sort of ancient high-powered demonic language” Sam explained what Bobby had told him about the hunter and the demon he’d caught. When he finished, Dean sat on his bed, shotgun in hand and a small frown across his lips.

“I see… but he didn’t understand what the message said?” Sam shook his head.

“No. Apparently it was only for the most powerful demons like Lilith and Azazel” Dean frowned, but didn’t comment on it. He was being strangely quiet ever since Sam had brought it up. Like some of that lively glow he’d possessed only minutes ago had suddenly vanished. Dean suddenly put the shotgun aside and threw the cloth piece back in the duffel bag. He looked up at Sam, something lashing in those emerald eyes of his, though Sam had no idea what. It was gone in under a second though, and in the end Sam decided to excuse it as a trick of light. Yet he couldn’t push away the feeling that Dean wasn’t telling him something.

“Did Bobby say anything else?” Dean asked, snapping Sam out of his thoughts. Sam thought for a second, remembering the hunt Bobby wanted them to check out since they were officially on the case.

“Yeah. You’re not going to like it though” Dean gave Sam that special Dean-look telling him to ‘hit him with it’. Sam sighed, as if preparing for something. Why was he reacting like this? Sure, it was Dean he was worried about, but was he being too paranoid? “Well, there’s been another vic. Amber K. Wallace. She was reported missing and apparently some weird message written in blood was left behind at the crime scene, might be the same thing” Dean’s expression darkened, but he didn’t say anything. Sam noticed something strange with Dean’s hands. Were they… shivering?

“Well then I guess we should get a move on. Seeing as we can’t find anything here and whatever it was clearly moved on” Dean said, standing up to pack his stuff before checkout. Sam frowned, but didn’t say anything

A few minutes later they were in the car. Sam kept throwing worried looks at his brother, knowing fully well that his brother was ignoring him.

Mean time, all Dean seemed to be able to think about was his old tormentor. _Master_. That little voice at the back of Dean’s mind whispered. Dean didn’t even bother to growl at it. It seemed that little part of Dean just refused to see that Alastair wasn’t his master anymore. Right?

But if Alastair had returned, didn’t that mean that he should be at his side? For a fearful second, Dean wondered what the hell he was doing running around with Sam, when it was Alastair who was his master. Dean turned pale at the thought, pushing it aside quickly. Trying his best to ignore the echoes of it in his mind. To try to distract himself, he reached out and turned on the radio. It was a relief to have something break the silence allowing him to think too much about his situation. Instead, he hummed along with Metallica’s to whom the bell tolls.

“You think it might be Lilith?” Sam asked, breaking the silence between the brothers. Dean cast him a confused glance before looking back at the road. He hated it when Sam started talking about Lilith like an obsessed boyfriend after a bad breakup. Dean couldn’t give two damns about Lilith. Even when he tried, he just couldn’t care.

“What do you mean?” He asked when Sam didn’t respond at first.

“The messages. I mean, Bobby said it was for higher ranks, and I can’t really imagine any higher ranking demon that Lilith herself. So maybe this is her” Sam explained, sounding almost enthusiastic. Dean however, didn’t share his enthusiasm. He already knew where this conversation was going.

“Or Bobby was wrong, and it’s just something demons use. I mean, a lot of years have passed since last time this… language or whatever was sighted. Have Lilith been up her during world war two? Besides, maybe all demons use it now” He said, trying to push the conversation away from Lilith. Sure, he didn’t like Lilith after what she did, hell, he probably had more reason to hate her than Sam did. But he was more than ready to just let it go. He was out, the two of them were together again. What more did his little brother need?

To his satisfaction, Sam seemed at a loss for words. The younger brother pouted as he stared out of the window for the rest of the trip. Meantime, Dean let his mind wander slowly, barely paying any attention to the road.

_“I must say I am impressed Alastair” Lilith said, eyeing Dean up and down. Alastair nodded in agreement. His twisted being practically beaming proudness. Al the while Dean just stood there, he knew better than to say or do anything unless Alastair gave the word. The demon gonna-be looked just as disfigured as his master. Only minus the hooves and scorpion tail. Instead, a pair of curling ram horns were just about to push through the thin layers of skin left on his forehead, along with longer, sharper claws from his fingers. Hooks and chains ripped at his flesh, but caused him nothing more than minor discomfort. Alastair had said he’d get used to it over the years, and Alastair never lied. Dean was strong, despite his skinny and weak appearance. He was already stronger than some demons._

_“So, when are you going to turn him into one of them?” Lilith asked. Alastair stared at her for a while, as if looking for the appropriate words. Then his milky eyes trailed towards his young student, taking in the gruesome appearance with pride._

_“Dear Lilith, I have no intentions of turning him into one of them” He said finally. Lilith tilted her head to the side, giving the other demon a questioning look._

_“If he is not to be a Daeva, then why keep him around for this long?” She asked, using that young girl voice she loved so much. Alastair had told Dean before that Lilith loved mocking the innocent. That is why she would use younger vessels when walking the earth unless for special occasions. Dean hadn’t asked any more questions about it._

_“Look at him!” Alastair said as he circled Dean like an award winning dog. Those long fingers of his trailing through Deans hair. Dean knew this was another demonstration, and so he did nothing to stop Alastair from rubbing his fingers into Dean’s scalp until a small layer of blood covered his fingertips and poured down the back of Dean’s neck._

_“He is far too good to become just another soldier any demon can take use of. Lilith, you are looking at my apprentice. My_ inheritance _” Alastair said with a smirk. He had explained to Dean early on that he was the one tasked with making shadows demons, or Daevas. Those vicious creatures Dean and Sam had to face once when the demon Meg had summoned them to get their attention. The only problem (for other demons) was that Alastair was their only true commander. Other demons than him had to bind them to their word, and if that bond snapped, they wouldn’t hesitate to rip the demon apart. Early on, Alastair had told Dean that he would soon become one of those creatures, only listening to Alastair’s word. That was of course before Alastair had seen Dean’s “natural talent” in torture. Apparently, the old demon had changed his mind quickly about Dean’s fate._

_“I see… So you have decided then? Taking children was always more Azazel’s thing than yours” She commented. Alastair nodded._

_“That’s what makes Dean extra special, sin’t it? I have decided,” Alastair turned to stare at Dean. The ex-hunter me his master’s eyes without hesitation. “Dean, you’re going to become my son”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Remember in season 1 episode 16. With those shadow demons that could travel through people's shadows and were only used once because they were too OP? Well, my mind just went "Hey! How do those things come to life?" And in the show they said they were demons, aka earlier human souls. I could only imagine them being even more twisted and beaten than the other souls in hell (why they attack abselutely ANYTHING if not controlled by a demon). And hey! who's hell's piccaso with a razor? you guessed it!  
> Alastair is the creator of the so called Daeva! So just picture this... Alastair has a small army of Daevas, cus there has to be a lot of them since Alastair is so damn old and so easily bored XD  
> Now... guess who's going to inherit that army after Alastair is gone (if alastair gets his will of course).  
> Demon army for Dean Winchester! XD (this is not plot related btw! Just a little thing i came up with xD)


	7. NOT A CHAPTER! -update

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick update if you're interested in reading :)

Hey guys! So, I'm hoping you guys are enjoying this story! I'm sorry this isn't an actual chapter, but I just want to get a few things out. so here goes, ye?

 

-first of, there is nothing I love more than interacting with my readers. Seriously! Every comment I get warms my black heart a little more every day :) So if you have an idea for where this story can go, do tell me and I will put them into consideration :D I love you guys and whenever I lot on this website (that I'm still relativly new to) And seing something new pop up in my inbox? it makes me happy :) To quote a great man: Writing is hard. Especially for me when I'm not even from england. So all your support is more than welcome. Like I said: you got any ideas, let me know in the comments below and I will CONCIDER putting them in if they fit the plot.

 

-secondly! A little bit about myself **(you can skip this one. It's not as important as the others if you don't want to read. That's completely okay)**

So. I'm a young Norwegian actor/writer wanna-be filling 16 in a few days now actually xD. The concept of acting and writing is something that has followed me around ever since i was quite young and attending drama school for some reason. Throughhout my life, my fantasy and feelsing have been pretty much the only thing to rely on for me. My real name is Una, which is an old viking name over 1000 years old. Which bring me on! I am a HUGE nerd. I'm not in any way religious, however mythology has always been super facinating! I've studied a lot of religions throughout my short life, mostly Norse mythology. (let's just say that I am thrilled with the combination of Gabriel and Loki xD) I'm a metal girl (I like metal and rock mothafluffers!) and one day I hope to achive my dreams of acting, not so I can live a dream life, but so I can inspire new generations and help those in need. I'm looking at you Valeria, I love you :')

 

 

-thirdly. I'm working on a few different storied in my spare time. So it might be hard to keep storied regulary updated. Just don't give up on me, eh? Anywyas. a few of the storied I'm working on (mostly SPN fanfictions, might move on to other things with time) are mainly focused around Dean. Like this one story (I'm not putting that much effort into it, I just want to get the idea out for other people to enjoy) is a not so cliche story where Dean is a falled angel. WITH A TWIST! So If you're a Lucifer fan and a Dean fan, you might wanna chack it out as soon as I finish and upload it. It's gonne be named Fallen grace (I think) so keep an eye out in the future. Oh! and another one where Lucifer grievs over Lilith's death and desides to take his payment in human checks (... what the f** does that mean?) 

Also. Dean is Death might be coming up  as well one day, maybe... hopefully. 

 

PS. I do not to slash fics, so if you wanted to see that you're on the wrong user. However, you are allowed to ask me very nicely if you want to take ideas from my stories, and if the answer is yes then you can do whatever. So there's that... 

 

now to something more... emotional:

My younger brother is autistic, so growing up was mostly based on taking care of him and my family. In school I had no friends, but I always believed in standing up for each other. So I always placed myself in the middle when someone was getting bullied. (this resulting in me being the main pick-on target) I believe this is why I can relate to Dean as a character and let myself inspire by Misha, Jensen and Jared. I've always been an outsider in society, and i'm still looking for a place to fit in and just be myself. With my brother's condition, growing up was hard. My life has included too many deaths of people i care deeply about, and the loss of beloved pets. If you were wondering who Valeria was? well, she was my first ever friend who was hospitalized and diagnosed with CP. but god damn she was the reason i moved on and tried to see every day as a new opertunity. She could never walk, barely talk and sadly passed away a few years ago 10 years older than what the doctor said she would be. She was a true inspiration for me, because she never saw the day as grey or depressing, but colorful and full of limited opertunities she could chose from. And that is a damned good way for looking at life.

I might come out as an emotionless narcesistic dick, but I really do care about you guys, about everyone. If you feind it's hard to keep going, or even the smallest thig happened to you, I'm here. and you're more than welcome to lay it on me. Because keeping things bottled up is proven bad for your health, both mental and psyical. So please, please... if you need anyone, don't hesitate. Tell me you need someone to talk to, and I'm here. No one deserves to live in a world wherethe clouds never clear. As a wise man keeps saying: Always keep fighting.


	8. Chapter 8

“Dean!” Sam yelled, snapping Dean out of his thoughts just in time to avoid colliding with a truck. The driver honked his horn at Dean, throwing cures as they passed by each other. Dean was too in shock to even recognize the rude gestures. It took the hunter a few seconds to realize that this wasn’t hell, and he wasn’t in the company of the demon queen or the chief tormentor, but rather in a shiny black 67 impala.

“Dude, what the hell was that?” Sam snapped at him, making Dean flinch. Sam rarely used that sharp tone, especially towards Dean. Yet it seemed like he’d used it a lot more ever since Dean got out of hell.

“N-nothing. I just zoned out for a second” Dean excused. Sam rolled his eyes, a motion that hurt Dean more than it should have. He blushed, turning his attention back towards the empty road. For a second Sam did the same, and nothing but the sound of the engine and Dean’s cassette. Dean gritted his teeth when Sam turned against him, preparing for another set of harsh words about how they could have died.

“Dean, are you feeling okay?” He visibly relaxed at the question, thankful that Sam wasn’t yelling at him anymore.

“Yeah Sam, I’m fine. Just zoned out, not that big a deal” He answered, never taking his attention of the road. Partly because he didn’t want to see the look in Sam’s eyes when he knew he was lying.

“That’s not it Dean. I’ve seen you at night, I know you’re having nightmares and I understand why. But I just think that maybe you should start opening up to people. Not necessarily me, if that’s what you want. But maybe Bobby or Ellen” now it was Dean’s turn to roll his eyes. Yeah, he could just walk up to someone and tell them every gory little detail about hell, and everything he did.

 _And how I miss it._ The thought caught Dean of guard. Where on earth did that even come from? He didn’t miss hell, he didn’t!

Hell was misery and pain. Hell was starving to death without the dying. Hell was burning hot and freezing cold at the same time. It was torture… it was,

 Dean gritted his teeth, giving his head a slight shake to try and chaise the little whisper that only kept growing stronger. Luckily, Sam didn’t seem to notice Dean’s inner struggles and instead turned his head back to the car window.

They stopped in the parking lot of a semi-good-looking motel, both brothers exiting simultaneously. Neither of them said a word on the way to the reception. No cheeky remark from Dean, no complaint from Sam. It was a silence they both appreciated after their brief conversation in the car. The woman behind the reception smiled at the, blue eyes lingering on Dean, taking in the full sight of him. Sam glanced over at his brother, only to find nothing. Dean didn’t even look at her as they approached, but instead dug into his pocket for a black leather wallet he’d pickpocketed in the last town. Usually, Dean would be all over the hot receptionist, practically drooling over her elegant curves and excellent hips. But his eyes were totally plank when he looked up at her. No lust, no smart pick-up line. Nothing.

Hell must have really messed him up, Sam thought to himself while Dean payed for their bed room. With a slight nod, he took the keys and the two of them made their way to the bedroom.

While walking down the hallway, passing different rooms, Dean came to a sudden halt. The air stank of rotten eggs. He sniffed the air. The sulfur particles stuck to his tongue, making his mouth go dry. Slowly, he turned to face the door next to him. The stench increased, and he felt like covering his nose or even get a gas mask. This wasn’t the kind of sulfur he’d gotten used too. It was… disgusting, dry and old. Dean let out a small growl, ready for an army of demons to come bursting out the door. He didn’t care, he’d fight them all if he had to. They were nothing more than black smoke in a pile of flesh and bones. He would strap them up one by one and slice them into tiny pieces before force-feeding it to them.

Before he could take action however, Sam placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Dean?” He asked, giving his shoulder a concerning squeeze. Dean instantly snapped out of his predatory-like trance, blinking away the remainder of the thoughts. The stench of sulfur was gone. Confused, he looked up at his younger brother who gave him that concerned look.

“You okay man? Sam asked. Dean only nodded carefully in reply, confusion written all over his features. He took one final look at the door before moving on further down the hallway with Sam right behind him. They found their room, and Dean grabbed the bed closest to the door.

“I need to do some research. Find out as much as I can about the victim. We can go see the crime scene tomorrow, maybe even talk to the parents,” Sam said as he fished out his trusted computer from his bag.

“Right. You do that,” Dean gave him one of his award winning smiles. “and I will go take a shower” He said, easily slipping out of his clothes. The chilled air of the not-entirely-well kept room felt surprisingly good against his bare skin. The young hunter let out a relieved sigh. After so many years in heat, constantly covered in a layer of his own fresh and warm blood, the cold never stopped relieving him.

Still he found part of himself yarning for the heat of hell’s inferno, the smell of cooking flesh and sulfur mixing together, leaving a sickening flavor in the taste buds. The feel of a surprisingly cold metal scalpel in his hands, slicing away at flesh and bones. They had no faces, the had no names. They were just there for him to carve. And carve he did.

He hadn’t even noticed himself slip into the small bathroom before he found himself staring into his own emerald eyes. He blinked, confused. He couldn’t remember walking into the bathroom, but in the end it didn’t really matter. He was going in anyways after all. Dean shifted uncomfortably, staring at his own reflection. His skin was pale after lying in a wooden box for 40-4… 4 months. Where he should have had various different battle scars, his chest and arms were smooth as a woman’s inner thigh. It was disturbing. After everything he’d suffered through, everything he’d done and hurt, to be so clean of anything.

 _Most scars are on the inside. It takes a special kind of… dare I say talent? To bring them out of their hiding._ Alastair’s voice echoed in his head. Dean could almost feel the torturer’s trusted razor dug under his skin, pulling away a long and fresh strip. The old demon had been right. Dean almost looked like he’d just stepped out of the cloning machine. This shin… it wasn’t his, it couldn’t be. In hell, Alastair had carved and sliced, nothing that would really leave any scars unless Alastair enchanted the blade first. He’d done so with the very first cut he’d made, and a various other, more artistic carvings. Including his well-worn mark so everyone knew who Dean belonged to and what would happen if he was touched. The demon had carved in his own name on Dean’s chest, along with Dean’s name, both old and new. Alastair wanted him to always remember who he used to be, who he would eventually lose.

 _I want them back._ The thought was like a shockwave against Dean’s brain. He stared at himself, confused. Had his reflection… moved?

 _I want them all back._ Dean could have sworn something shifted in his eyes at the thought. He only managed to push the thoughts away by thinking about what John would say. Probably the same thing he always said when Dean told him he’d had a nightmare.

_“Suck it up kid,” John said as he took another big swig at the whiskey flask, almost knocking the five-year-old Dean over in the process. The young boy had woken up screaming from a terrible nightmare, the one where his mother was burning on the ceiling while she blamed him for everything. At first, Dean had half expected Mary to come rushing in through the door of his bedroom, scooping him up in his loving arms and sing hey Jude till he was sound asleep._

_But Mary didn’t come, and Dean wasn’t in his room. He was lying on the cold, wet and hard mattress in an old, stinky motel room. With small, almost soundless steps, he snuck out of bed, careful not to wake Sammy on his way. As he’d expected, John was sitting in the make-shift couch with a bottle of Jack in his hands. Dean had never understood why his beloved father found such comfort in a bottle of disgusting liquid, but he hadn’t dared question his father. Not after what happened to his mom. This man, this_ sir _sitting on the couch wasn’t his dad. It was just a shadow, the result of something Dean had watched crumble and fall apart right before his eyes as heat washed over him in waves. The night his mom died, his old dad died with her. But he had no one else, no one to turn to. So in a tiny voice, he’d whispered:_

 _“Daddy? Daddy I had a bad dream” And John, the_ sir _had turned around and told him to “suck it up”. Dean could feel his small hope of comfort that night crumble into a small pile of ashes in his stomach. John’s breath stank of alcohol, and it took all Dean’s self-control not to cringe at the harsh tone in his voice._

_“You’re five years old now Dean, I don’t have time for your dreams. I have a job to do” John scolded. Dean sank back with every words, tears prickling in his eyes. He knew it was the drink from the bottle that made his father so easily upset, but he couldn’t help but blame himself for that as well. Maybe, if he took better care of Sammy, his father would act nicer, put down the bottle. His father always seemed to have time for his younger brother. But Sam was still just a child who could barely walk. It was the only time he could see John smile, when Sammy wobbled over to him on unsecure feet._

_Dean only wished he could make Daddy smile like that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's demonic side is etting closer and closer. I guess some instincts are harder to shake, eh?
> 
> A little flashback of Dean's childhood. How niiiiiiiic.... yeah, maybe not. i wanted to really get out Dean's feelings and thoughts when he was at such a young age and he'd so freshly lost his mother. I honestly have no idea what happened, I just wanted to write it down because no one can come here and tell me John didn't abuse Dean! he might not have hit him, but mental abuse is still an actual thing. The look on Dean's face when he remembers hell, and the look when he talks about his dad are almost the same. So I'm sorry if you didn't like the sappy little moment of parental weakness, but boo-fucking-hoo.
> 
> Let's resume the hell hunt in the next chapter, yeah? I have something very special planned out for the near future >:)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I recomend reading the note at the bottom... just sayin...

Sam nearly collapsed in front of his computer. Three more victims had disappeared in three different towns, and no matter how fast they’d arrived, another one had disappeared the next day. Whatever this thing is, it made sure to keep one-step ahead of them at all times. Sam wondered if it knew they were onto it, that this was all some sick game. Not to mention that with each disappearing, Dean seemed to become more anxious. He kept pacing around the room, waiting for the call from Bobby telling them where and who. Sam couldn’t shake the feeling that Dean knew something, something he didn’t share with the rest of them. He seemed less like himself with each passing day, and it was starting to worry the shit out of him.

Dean was thankfully gone at the moment. Said he was going to the bar and have a few drinks. The guy was probably going to get drunk and spend the night with some lady he wouldn’t remember the name of in the morning. Point was, Dean said he’d be gone a couple of hours.

Three knocks on the door and Sam went to open. Ruby stood patiently and waited for him to let her in. Ruby was another problem Sam had to deal with. It seemed to become harder and harder to hide her from his brother. Somehow, he seemed to know whenever she was close. He would stop and smell the air like a bloodhound before asking about sulfur. Sam had no idea how Dean did it, though Ruby had told him that it might be an after effect from hell. After all, hell is where the sulfur smell came from.

“You called” Ruby said as soon as Sam had closed the door behind her. She gave him that special look she always gave him when she was getting ready to bring out the knife. The thought of demon blood made his mouth water, but he shook it out of his head. He had more important things to talk about than his powers.

“I need help” He started, unsure of where to go on from there. Ruby stared at him for what felt like ages before she lost her patience.

“And? You need more?”

“No! not yet… it’s Dean. I fear there’s something wrong with him. Like, really wrong with him and you’re the only one who might know something” He explained. Ruby gave an almost annoyed huff, but nodded hear head.

“What’s wrong with him?” She asked, quickly followed up by: “Aside from him being Dean” Sam almost snorted, but kept his game face on.

“Well, he hasn’t really been himself ever since hell. And I mean, I get that! It’s frickin hell, but…” He trailed off, unsure of how to continue. Was he making the right choice coming to Ruby for help? If Dean found out about it, he would be pissed and probably kill her first chance he got. Then again, he would anyways.

“But what? Sam, if you want my help I’m gonna need details” She complained, throwing Sam back on the right track.

“Ever since we took on this job, he’s become even more distant. He barely talks anymore, he keeps pacing around waiting for Bobby to call, and he keeps zoning out like _he’s_ the psychic one” he explained. This seemed to have caught onto Ruby’s delicate attention span. The demon raised an eyebrow at him in silent question. He didn’t say anything when she poured herself a glass of whiskey and sat down on his bed.

“He could be having flashbacks. I mean, not many people are dragged out of hell with their humanity still intact… no one in fact, but I imagine it would be quite the load. What kind of job are you guys working on that got your pants in a spin anyways?” She said after some thought. Sam moved to grab his computer where most of the pictures were uploaded to his email connection with Bobby.

“People have gone missing the last couple of days, we think it’s a demon, but we’re not quite sure anymore. Whatever it is, it keeps leaving these messages in blood that we’re not able to translate,” He said, pushing his computer in her direction. Ruby’s eyes moved lazily from staring at him, to the computer screen. The moment she did her eyes flashed black and the half full glass of whiskey she’d been enjoying fell out of her suddenly limb hand. Quick as lightning, she’d slammed his computer shut. Heaving for the air she didn’t really need, she gave him a panicked look.

“Where did you find that?”

\--

It was an abandoned hospital this time. According to the brief history of the building, it’d been abandoned forty years ago because of mistreatment of patients. The walls of the small corridor threatened to close around him, trapping him in endless darkness and broken walls. Whenever he came in touch with the walls, he felt electricity rush through him and a desperate itch to scratch the dirt off his skin. Though he’d rather push himself against the wall than walk openly in the middle where anything could pop out at any second and attack him. Old habits die hard and all that.

Dean wondered what kind of horrors awaited him this time. For days they’d been moving from place to place trying to find what was already there. He knew Alastair was watching him, somehow. He also knew that it was hopeless to call out to the demon, because if Alastair wanted him to know, he would tell him. His old teacher was simple like that. So instead, Dean had continued to play whatever twisted game they were playing, and showed up whenever his old master demanded. _Not old, still…_ Said that annoying voice in the back of his mind, surprisingly soothing.

Finding the right room was easy. All he had to do was follow the small trail of blood long the ground, and occasionally a smudged handprint on the wall. The sight of a little too fresh blood didn’t bother him, it just meant that the victim was newly slaughtered, and that he would have to clean his boots before going back to the motel where Sam was awaiting his return. The blood lead him to an old looking door with the word “operating room” written on a dirty glass window. His hand was shaking with what he was ashamed to admit was excite. Deep down he wondered what kind of present awaited him inside the room. He mentally slapped himself at the thought, but it refused to leave, instead scratching at the back of his mind. Dean growled at it before opening the door.

It was the perfect replica… the _perfect_ remake of their old workspace.

From the ceiling hung thick chains, some blood stained and rusty. In the middle of the room was a small operating table with a shape hidden underneath a black blanket. Next to it was an even smaller table of tools, all looking well-used and bloody. On one of the cleaner walls, the message written in Alastair’s careful handwriting said:

 _Thought we could try something different, don’t you think?_ Dean raised an eyebrow. The sickening feeling of guilt slowly made way for morbid curiosity. Alastair had planned something different for him this time? He knew it couldn’t possibly be good, yet a growing part of him coiled around him with joy. His master had thought of something special! Something just for him.

Dean would swear up and down that it was the morbid curiosity that drove him over to the operating table, and not the silent joy with the gift that had even been properly wrapped. With shivering cold hands, he reached out to remove the black blanket.

The woman, what was her name again? Melissa? Maiden? Something like that, had her eyes closer. Blood was everywhere, attaching any cloth material it could. Dean’s plaid shirt became a sad victim to the stains, but he didn’t care. He stared, mesmerized, at the victim in front of him. Her chest was split open, revealing her still beating heart. A plastic tube was pushed through her throat and into the lungs so she wouldn’t choke on the amounts of blood, they heaved and rattled desperately for air that came in just enough supplies to keep her alive. Her legs were missing, replaced by a puddle of fresh blood, still steaming in the cold air. Fingernails were dug into what was left of her thighs, and it didn’t take Dean long to realize they were _hers_. She’d been scalped, and he could clearly see the bone white skull behind a thin layer of blood.

But she was still alive.

Dean didn’t know how to react, so he simply didn’t. Instead he took in the full sight of agony and pain in front of him, and for once letting the memories of hell flash through his mind. How many times had he done this to an innocent soul? Too many to count. Even when he knew that he _should_ see this differently, after all this wasn’t hell, he simply couldn’t. It was as if his mind was forced back into a time of routine and simplicity. Seeing her like this was easy, after all he’d seen it all before, been the cause of it as well.

 _Beautiful misery, sing your screams to me. Rivers of red and mountains of bone, create my art from thee…_ The words sang through his mind like a familiar warm wind, lulling in further into the abyss. He noticed something white in her hand, and reached out to grab it. His fingers closed around a small note.

To his surprise, it was written in normal English. _Look at the wounded animal Dean… have you the heart to leave it like this? **KILL IT**_. It wasn’t a suggestion, it wasn’t a request. Dean recognized an order when he saw one. His hand reached out for one of the blades, the blood sticking to his fingers when he picked one up in a firm grip. Her eyes were open now, staring right at him full of _~~delicious~~_ fear and agony. Her mouth moved to talk, but the tube in her throat prevented any sound from coming out. Dean was eternally thankful for that.

Slowly, he lifted the knife. For a split second, he stopped and almost screamed at himself. What the hell was he doing?! She was an innocent human- then the darkness flooded over like the last drop into a full glass. He brought the knife towards her heart, time moving agonizingly slow. His vision flashed from red and back to normal over and over, and he was sure that had he been epileptic he would be lying on the ground himself.

_Beautiful misery, sing your screams to be. Rivers of red and mountains of bone, create my art from thee…_

“Slowly but surely, the knife slides by. Marking your skin with darkness. Slipping and screaming, deeper we fall… further and further in _madness_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we get to have a look at Dean in hell-mode XD The "song" lyrics is just something I came up with like... how twisted would it be if Dean wrote his own song in hell that he used to sing to his victims while slicing them to pieces. Apperently he isn't that great at writing lyrics though (I know I suck, but suck it up XD)
> 
> And we get to see Ruby :O Hope you guys liked the multiple POV style chapter, cus we might get more of that in the future... just FYI.   
> Anyways! hope you all enjoyed this chapter and I am SO sorry for taking so long with the update. I'm working on a lot of different stories and sometimes it's easy to forget the priorities :) 
> 
> As always, if you have any ideas or wished, just tell me in the comments and I will concider them. I want you guys to have part in this story as much as I do, makes it more enjoyable, ye? If you want credit for an idea, just let me know and I'll see what I can do.
> 
> ALSO! If you have an idea for a short one shot or something you want me to write, then you can tell me that as well and maybe we can come to some agreement. 
> 
>  
> 
> Congratz if you've actually read this far...


	10. Chapter 10

_“Have you ever heard of the pear of anguish?” Alastair didn’t wait for an answer before he continued. “No? What a shame, it’s a real good one. Should be at least, I mean, I helped make it,” The demon chuckled, staring down at him with too white eyes. Alastair was different from the other demons, too different. Where the other demon’s he’d seen though his life as a hunter had black, corrupted eyes matching the endless darkness that used to be their human soul. Their true forms were… horrifying. Always drenched in blood and dark fog. Sometimes, a few scraps of their old clothes would cling desperately to their bodies in a last memory of something human. Dean had even seen something that could resemble a woman judging by her skinny body and sad excuse for breasts. She’s had something that looked like a torn up dress from the Victorian ages wrapped around her like an old skirt over a rusty metal cage._

_Alastair, on the other hand, radiated power. The other demons would walk hunched over in fear whenever Alastair approached. He kept his scarred head high, making him seem taller than even Sam. And where the others had dark eyes full of hatred and anger, Alastair’s shone white with sadistic amusement and dark humor. Then again, what did he have to be angry about? He had everything he’d ever want._

_The demon tormentor reached out for a strange pear-shaped tool and held it up in front of Dean to get a closer look. It didn’t look as scary or painful as it probably was. Dean had learnt not to underestimate the tools Alastair had picked out for him. The “pear of anguish” shone a bright silver in the dark lighting. The dark red flames reflected of it’s smooth surface. Upon closer inspection, Dean noticed the golden markings glowing ever so slightly against the silver. At the thinner end of the pear was a small key just waiting to be turned._

_“This is one of my personal favorites really, because the concept of it is just so simple, yet the agony this little thing here can cause is nearly unbelievable!” Alastair, as usual, sounded all too excited for his new session with his so-called favorite toy. As a demonstration, he turned the small key and the pear split into three flower-like pedals with sharpened edges. Dean felt himself recoil at the sight of that being anywhere near him._

_“Now, this beauty here works in two ways. I can either use it in your mouth, where it will pulverize your jawbone… or I could go a bit lower,” to show Dean what he meant, he moved it down slowly to Dean’s exposed ass. Dean whimpered, trying desperately to cover himself up with his legs, despite them being bound to the corners of the rack. Alastair gave an amused chuckle and removed the pair just as the cold metal came in contact with Dean’s skin. Dean didn’t know whether to be more scared, or relived._

_“I think… I’m going to go with both of them actually. But I’m not selfish, not at all. Where do you want me to begin Dean?” He moved the pear towards his mouth suggestively, his grin showing off rotted sharp teeth. “mouth?” he pointed it downwards “or anal?”_

_Tears were streaming from Dean’s eyes, and the torture hadn’t even begun yet. The pain from last session still lingered however, after his lambs had been stretched to inhuman lengths and then slowly removed with a rusty saw. Had this been his first day, or maybe even week, he’d thing Alastair was joking. But this was his one year mark, as the demon had explained earlier. And he knew now, that when Alastair said something, he rarely joked._

_“M-mouth…” Dean said weakly, his voice still torn from screaming. Hopefully, he would be in enough pain that he couldn’t notice the pear when it entered him down below, but Alastair knew his job well enough to be able to spread the pain all over, unlike some of the other demons he’d allowed a round or two on Dean. Whenever the other demons got to try, it was a relief to him. Like he could finally take a small brake. When Alastair noticed how content he seemed with the unprofessional torture, he’d throw them out and take an even harsher round himself._

_“Right then,” Alastair said, moving the pear towards his lips slowly before stopping only millimeters away. “Then again, I could just put this thing away. You wouldn’t even have to look at it again” The demons suggested. Dean’s eyes unwillingly lit up at the suggestion, and he cursed himself when the demon noticed. “All you have to do is step off the rack and pick up my blade. No more pain, no more torture, just bliss” God damn him for making the offer seem ten times more tempting. Dean’s mind tore at him like a flock of wild cats. With each day the offer became more and more tempting. No matter how much times passed, Alastair never ran out of creative ideas. God, it was driving him mad._

_“No… no” Was all he managed to hoarse out. Alastair’s wide smile almost faltered, it was a gesture that was hard to notice, but Dean somehow managed to see it though the burning tears in his eyes. And when he said burning, he meant it. Who would have thought that Tears turned to acid down in hell?_

_“No? Oh well… your loss Grasshopper. Not open wide” Dean obeyed, opening his mouth wide enough for the pear to slip inn. He closed his eyes, unwilling to look into those white eyes as the key slowly turned. It didn’t take long before the sound of bones crushing reached his ears, followed by his own agonizing screams._

Sam was sitting in front of his computer once again. Ruby had told him all she knew about the alphabet, which wasn’t much other than what they already knew. When he’d asked her if she could read it, she’d stared at him like he’d sprouted a second head. She’d told him that only four or five demons in all of hell actually _knew_ the alphabet, and that had included Azazel and Lilith herself.

Now he was left to ponder on the newly found information. When he’d asked her about Dean, she’d gone surprisingly quiet. Of course she hadn’t really been down in hell ever since Dean got there and she hadn’t exactly gone looking for him, too preoccupied to get herself out somehow. Sam didn’t blame her for that, it was hell after all. Ruby had explained that words written in the ancient demonic alphabet were scattered all over hell, and that they probably gave Dean bad memories. However Sam wasn’t entirely convinced.

So now he sat in front of a black computer screen, listening to the clock counting each second at time. Time seemed to go by too slow while he sat there, trapped in his own thoughts and worries.

The door creaked open, and a tired-looking Dean stepped inside. Sam’s eyes widened at the sight of his brother. Dean was pale, nearly green in the poor lighting of the motel room. His short hair looked like a bird had tried to make a nest out of it and those emerald green eyes seemed dark, not even looking in Sam’s direction. But what horrified Sam the most was the bloodstains on Dean’s clothes and his clawed up hands. He could see pieces of Dean’s skin and blood under his nails, like he’d tried to claw off his own hands.

“Dean, holy shit! Are you okay?” He asked. Dean, for a moment, looked disoriented. Then his eyes landed on Sam, and a horrified expression grew on his face. Before either of them could react, he collapsed, luckily falling into his bed.

“Dean!” Sam yelled, rushing over to assist him.

“S-Sammy?” Dean asked, his voice shaking. He reached out towards Sam, and Sam was quick to grab his hand and offer what little comfort he could give. Dean looked down at his hands and whimpered, _whimpered_! Like a scared puppy.

“Oh God Sammy… it’s on me! Get it off me! Get it off!” Sam didn’t have any time to react before his brother started clawing at his already wounded and bleeding hands. His shrieks sounded inhuman. God, he sounded like a wounded animal. Dean dug his nails into his skin and clawed, ripped, anything he could do. He looked panicked, and Sam had no idea what to do. Desperate, he grabbed a hold of Dean’s hands, trying to restrain him for long enough to calm him down.

“Dean! Dean you need to calm down. It’s okay, I’m here. I’m here for you brother,” He said as calmly as he could. Dean, however, didn’t seem to get a word of what he was saying, still yelling at his hands.

“I can’t! I can’t do it! Leave me alone, leave me alone! Get the fuck away from me!” Dean’s eyes widened as he saw something that must have been horrible. Sam had no idea what to do. His brother was completely gone, in the middle of some sort of attack, and he had no idea what the hell he could do.

He could have slapped himself once he realized how stupid he was. Panicked, he fumbled for his phone. He glanced back at his brother, and to his horror he saw that Dean had gone over to convulsion. He looked so in pain, twisting and turning and shaking uncontrollably.

“Shit! Shit shit shit… hold on Dean” Sam mumbled as he dialed 911.

“911, what’s your emergency?” Said the woman on the phone. Sam could have slapped her. Her calm voice was enough to make him even more scared. How the hell could she sound this calm with the job she had? Like any other hunter, Sam kept his cool, tried to at least.  

“It’s my brother. I think he’s having some sort of a seizure or something. I-I don’t know what to do” He said, his voice cracking several times. He cast another worried glance at Dean, where  he was still shaking uncontrollably.

“Just stay calm sir, I will send an ambulance over at once. Please state your location” Sam wanted to scream at her for telling him to calm down. The hysterical part of his mind was in all panic mode, battling with the logical telling him to stay calm and listen to her.

“We’re at the dark sun motel, room 13. Please hurry” He heard her tap away at her keyboard, a sound he’d never thought he would appreciate more than now. A few seconds later, she finally spoke to him again.

“I’ve sent an ambulance, they’re on their way now. Sir, is he having convulsions?”

“Yes”

“Alright, I need you to make sure he doesn’t bite his tongue. You need to restrain him somehow so he doesn’t hurt himself. Make sure he can breathe, and keep track of his heartbeat” Sam ran over to his brother, setting the phone on speaker so he could still hear the lady speaking. Without thinking he quickly took off his belt and stuffed it into Dean’s mouth. Dean bit down hard, even drawing blood from his gums.

“Alright, he’s biting down on my belt. What now?” he asked the lady on the phone.

“How long has the seizure been going on?” She asked him, her voice still way to calm. At least now it sounded more like she gave a damn about what’s happening.

“I… I don’t know. He just came back from the bar and started freaking out. I… I guess a couple of minutes, but I’m not sure” He answered. Dean was still shaking under his weight, but at least he didn’t move as much with Sam’s knees keeping his arms down.

“Okay. Is he frothing?” Sam shook his head until he remembered she couldn’t see him.

“No”

“Alright. Just stay calm, the ambulance should be there any minute” As if on cue, the tell-tale sound of sirens came from outside, growing stronger and stronger. Sam didn’t notice that the woman hung up the phone, but he didn’t really care much either. Within seconds, men in uniform entered the room. Sam saw what happened around him, they carried Dean out into the impala, asked him a few questions that he didn’t remember answering, and then he was sitting in the impala on his way to the hospital.

All he could focus on was Dean, and how he’d tried to claw his own hands and yelled… the blood soaking his clothes.

“God Dean… what’s happening to you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so here's some more hell Dean for ya. And this chapter really took a turn for the worst, didn't it? Seriously, I had not planned out for Dean to have a seizure in this chapter, but my hands had other plans apperently XD So in the next chapter, we get to see Dean in the hospital, and maybe somehting else as well... I guess the heart of the story is coming close, aint it?   
> hope you guys enjoyed this and remember that you can leave ideas for this story, or other stories in the comments. Please let me know if there are any mistakes I need to fix.
> 
> Oh! And merry christmas everyone!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Before you read this I just want to tell you I'm sorry for the wait. and sorry that you only get a hell!Dean chapter as well, but it's all I have time for today, so you'll just have to live with it for a little while. I know I left it at kind of a unplanned cliffhanger last chapter, so you'll have to wait extra long to see what happens to Dean.   
> Anyways. Enjoy the chapter, let me know if there are mistakes you want me to fix and if you have an idea for a one shot or a chapter let me know and we'll see ;)   
> Love ya all!

_Dean hissed as white, burning light filled his cell. As soon as the light came in contact with his scarred skin, pain flooded though him like that time he’d been forced to swallow molten copper. He yelled out as the light came closer. It was hot, too hot to even look at. He shielded his nearly black eyes, desperate to block out as much light as possible. Slowly, it started towards him after a few seconds of observing. Dean felt fear, true fear, well up in him for the first time in a long time. His legs felt strange underneath him when he stepped as far away as he could. The light-or whatever the hell it was, seemed startled. It came to a slight halt, though only for a millisecond, but that was enough for Dean to notice._

_He didn’t know what the hell kind of demon this was, or why it came after him like this. He had been good! Done exactly as his master commanded without hesitation. So why was this-this_ thing _after him? Was it jealous of Alastair? No, that couldn’t be it. If it was, it would be snickering and mocking him like all the others. The light wasn’t acting like a demon at all. But what else could it be? An escaped soul would go after him, it would be in panic. So what-?_

_Dean screamed when the light reached out for him. He tried to dodge the potential attack, but it managed to grab a hold of his shoulder. The light soared through his entire being, burning white pain filling every cell of his body. He went stiff as emotions he thought he was rid of came flooding back. Empathy, sorrow, **regret!** Everything attacked him all at once. In one last effort of escape, he called out the name of his god, his entire purpose of living. _

_“Alastair!” He knew Alastair would be ashamed of him at how pathetic he sounded, but he couldn’t care right now. The emotions, god they were going to kill him! What had he done? All those souls, those innocent souls. Mothers who sold themselves to save their children from sickness. Husbands who gave themselves for the sake of their wives… brothers who would do anything for each other…_

_No! No he couldn’t give in this easily. Alastair would have him back on the rack in no time for more lessons, and he didn’t want to go back. Not because of the agony, he was still regularly tortured by Alastair when he forgot his place, or just to update his lessons. No, it was the boredom of the rack. Everything he’d done, all his work would be wasted if he failed his master now. Whatever this light was, it wouldn’t win. He wouldn’t let it win!_

_And then the light stopped dead in it’s tracks. Dean didn’t know how, but it somehow seemed to dim down to the point that he could see it without his eyes melting again. Though the being was still drowned in mostly light, he thought he could see the vague shape of a man with giant glowing wings. Dean shook his head to clear it. This thing didn’t have wings! He was just seeing things in the burning light._

_“Ahem,” Said a familiar voice from the entrance. Dean’s gut recoiled in pride from hearing that voice. He’d come for him! His master, his_ father _hadn’t just left him to fall prey to this thing. He knew Alastair, to some degree, cared about him. He was his apprentice after all, which was apparently really rare._

_“What in the name of hell do you think you’re doing here, angel scum!” It wasn’t a question as much as a demand. Dean recognized the tone in Alastair’s voice. He was angry, disappointed maybe. The very thought of disappointing him made Dean want to cut his own liver out. Which he’d done on more than one occasion._

_To Dean’s surprise, the glowing man turned around and stared right at Alastair. The older demon stood unmoved by the brightness of the light, which seemed to catch the light-man off guard. Then, to surprise Dean even more, it spoke._

_“Dean Winchester has been chosen. He shall be raised from perdition and brought forth to the heavenly host” It’s voice echoed, causing Dean’s beloved workspace to shake. Then it hit him. Alastair had said ‘angel scum’ earlier… which meant that… No way in hell was it even possible. After all this time, a frickin’ **angel** had come to get him? Dean took another step back, pressing himself against the wall. Alastair stared at the two in front of him, bright eyes traveling from the angel, to Dean and back again. _

_“It doesn’t look like he wants to go with you, angel” He spit out the last word as if it had a bad after taste. Then again, it kind of did. The angel turned back to look at Dean, who hissed at it, baring his sharpened teeth at it. It turned back to face Alastair, this time more defiant._

_“What have you done with him?” It demanded. Alastair scowled at it, but didn’t react to the insult._

_“What I do with every soul that comes down here. Carve them, slice them and when they get off the rack, teach them and twist them. Well, maybe I’ve done something extra to Dean, but that’s my little secret” The demon grinned and took a surprisingly confident step forward. The angel didn’t move, nor did Dean. Alastair gave him a look of pride at that, which sent warmth through Dean’s core. Master was pleased with him, at least a little bit._

_“Dean Winchester shall be saved, heaven has commanded it” Dean gritted his teeth as another wave of emotions flooded his mind. The angel turned towards him, reaching out but not really touching. “Listen to me Dean Winchester. You are a good man, not the creature this abomination has made you. Think about what you’ve done, all your sacrifices to save the innocent. Break free from hell’s hold and come with me back to earth” It said. Dean’s shoulder burned to the point that throwing himself into a sun would seem like taking a cool swim. Emotion after emotion washed over him in waves of agony. He bent in on himself and fell to his knees in front of the angel. Regret, so much regret for what he’d done. He’d prefer the god damn rack over this! Compared to this, the rack seemed like just another lesson. He looked up at Alastair, silently pleading for help. Alastair stared back at him, emotionless and observing._

_“Dean. I feel like this is your choice. If you want to go back to that idiotic brother of yours,” A mix of familiar hatred, and unfamiliar love filled his head at the mention of his brother. “You go with the angel. But if you want to stay here, where you truly feel content with your existence, you come to me” there wasn’t even a moment of hesitation. With much efforts, Dean crawled in the direction of Alastair. The angel reached out it’s hand, thinking he was on his was into it’s arms. Had the situation been different, he’d be laughing at the angel’s baffled shape when he crawled right past him towards his master. Alastair seemed truly proud when Dean knelt at his side, clinging to his leg for support. He would rarely allow that of him, but today seemed to be a special occasion._

_“You have brainwashed him. This is not the choice he would make had he been himself!” The angel hissed. Alastair answered the gesture by glaring, a look of true evil sent straight at the imposter._

_“You know nothing of Dean Winchester,_ nothing _! You only want to use him and take advantage of him where I want to see him grow and learn! You are all holy pigeons searching for scraps in the deepest of pits. There is nothing here for you, so leave now before I strap you to my rack and rip off your wings!” Dean shrank back at the anger radiating from his master. Even the ‘holy pigeon’ seemed to hesitate before answering._

_“Fine! If you will not hand him over willingly, then we take him by force”_


	12. Chapter 12

The first thing he noticed was light. White, burning light stinging his eyes as soon as he opened his eyes. He grunted, trying to shield himself of the light only to find his arms bound next to him. Confused, he blinked, trying to get used to the burning white. After a while, he could finally see enough besides the annoyingly sharp light to see that he was in what appeared to be a hospital room. At least judging by the bed he was lying in along with the needle in his arm hooked up to the bag next to him filled with some sort of liquid.

“Hell-o?” He tried yelling, however his voice would barely go above a whisper and broke off as pain filled his throat. God he needed some water. Dean looked around to see if there was anything he could use to get a nurse or anything. His eyes landed on the small white remote with a single red button lying on the nightstand next to him. He’d completely forgotten his bound arms, and cursed when he couldn’t reach it. Why the hell would they put it there and make him unable to reach it?! With a low growl, he tried to make himself more comfortable in the bed. He’d never felt comfortable in hospitals. Too many people watching him, too many people judging his injuries and asking questions he couldn’t answer without being transferred to the mental hospital. But right about now he wished there was at least a nurse or something.

Then his mind wondered towards how he’d gotten here. The last flash of memory he could find was reaching for the door handle to their motel room. It all became very blurry after that. Like he’d been in some sort of trance throughout it all. He could vaguely remember Sam screaming his name before blacking out. Sam must have taking him to a hospital for some reason. But why? He hadn’t been hurt, he’d been… he’d…

“Oh my god” He croaked, eyes widening at the memory of blood dripping from his scalpel as he drove the knife in and out of the woman’s heart. That _innocent_ woman’s heart. A woman he could have saved… Dean cursed himself for not feeling any grief or remorse. Hell, he didn’t even feel regret. Just a deep, familiar hole where his feelings should have been. It had just felt so natural, so right to do it since Alastair had told him to. He’d killed a woman, and now he couldn’t even force himself to regret it!

There was a knock on the door before it opened, revealing a semi-old man. His hair was white and crystal clean, just like the white lab-like coat he was wearing over what Dean guessed was a dark grey suit. Dean came to the conclusion that he was a doctor working at the hospital. The doctor smiled at him, a warm and welcoming smile that was almost creepy to a man like Dean. But he would never look a gift horse in the mouth, for now he noticed the small plastic cup in the man’s hands and hoped it was for him.

“Mr. Winchester?” The doctor asked. Dean nodded hesitantly. Why on earth would Sam give their real name when they had a million others to choose from. He would have to confront his brother about it later.

The doctor was kind enough to unstrap his arms before handing him the glass of cold water. Dean chugged it down, relishing the feeling of the fire in his throat disappearing. He glanced up at the doctor again, seeing him smile was surprisingly… pleasant. Like he’d done something good for once. Dean smiled back, though it came out crooked and wrong.

“Uhm, doctor…” Dean asked, silently asking for the kind doctor’s name.

“Al. You can call me Doctor Al” Dean nodded, ignoring the spike of familiarity the name triggered in his gut.

“Doctor Al, do you know where my brother went? He’s usually with me when I’m hospitalized” Dean asked. The doctor cocked his head to the side until a small pop from his joints could be heard. Dean ignored it, though the feeling of bone popping sent an unwilling wave of pleasant shivers down his back.

“You have seizures often, or just when you kill people?” Dean was about to answer when the doctor’s words actually registered in his mind. How the hell did the doctor know about-

“Oh, and your brother, he’s in your motel with Ruby. You remember her, right? She’s been following you around so she can feed her blood to Sam. And you didn’t even notice it. Shame on you Dean” Dean’s heart skipped a beat, the air stuck in his throat. Sam wasn’t… he couldn’t. Ruby was gone, Lilith had sent her away. The mother of demons had personally told him that Ruby was out of Sam’s life.

“No… no you’re lying”

“Oh Grasshopper,” Alastair said with amusement in his voice. “You know just as well as I, that I don’t lie. Thought we agreed to that in hell” He was right. Alastair didn’t lie, never had. Because the truth hurt so much more than the lies. But that meant that Sam…

The door slammed shut, followed by the small click of the lock. Dean’s eyes darted from the door back to the doctor who’s eyes now shone a bright white that was all too familiar. Dean froze, just like he always did when Alastair was standing in front of him. Half expecting a knife to slide into Alastair’s palm, he eased his breathing. It was always easier if he didn’t fight. It had taken years, but he’d finally learnt that lesson the hardest way. He closed his eyes, not wanting to meet the eyes of his old master. He wasn’t ready for the disappointment that was sure to await him, followed by another year on the rack.

“Sir, are you okay?” What? Slowly, he opened his eyes. Normal grey eyes met him, full of worry. Dean’s eyes widened, surprised. No, no this wasn’t right. Seconds ago that was Alastair ready to hurt him. He moved as far away from Alastair as the bed would allow him, green eyes never leaving the demon.

“What the hell is this?” He asked, feeling fear and anger wrestle around inside him. If Alastair was going to hurt him, he might as well get it over with.

“Mr. Smith, you need to calm down. I’ll go get a nurse, and maybe we can call your brother and-”

“What kind of game are you playing Alastair? First it’s Mr. Winchester, and now it’s Mr. Smith? What the hell kind of name even is that? You expect me to believe this human façade of yours?” He’d never spoken back to his master this way, and he knew that the punishment would be agonizing, but right now he just couldn’t care.

“How did you know about Sam?”

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about sir. Listen, you’re sick, you had a seizure. Let’s just calm down and I will get you some medicine to calm your nerves” To both Alastair and Dean’s surprise, Dean jumped from the bed and pinned his old master against the wall. Oh, he was really going to get it later, but Alastair was playing very hard.

“Stop it! Stop pretending you’re human. I know exactly what you are, you’re not fooling me! We played enough of these games down in hell. I’ve learnt my lesson so _stop playing_ ” He growled. The windows started vibrating, the lights flickering all in the same rate as his anger was pulsing through his veins. Power radiated from him, reaching out for anything that could be smashed. He didn’t even notice until all the windows exploded in a wave of shattered glass. The light above them flickered and died and even the water sprinklers in the ceiling went amok. He could feel the power flow through him, it felt warm and angry, alien to his human mind.

That’s when he noticed the doctor in front of him. It was like seeing him for the first time. The doctor was still pressed against the wall, though Dean’s fingers had left him long ago. Blood was pouring from his blank, lifeless eyes. His mouth was open in a silent plead for help, for mercy.

He’d died… Dean had killed him without even noticing. He took a step back as the horror finally seemed to seep in. He’d killed him! Without even touching him. The corpse dropped dead to the ground with a heavy thump. Pieces of shattered glass cut into the doctor’s skin, quickly creating a pool of blood.

“Oh my god…” Dean muttered. He didn’t even acknowledge the pain as the broken glass ripped into his own bare feet. For what felt like hours, he just stood there, speechless. He’d just killed a man, a man who’d begged for his life just like that woman back at the warehouse.

“Oh God… what’s happening to me?” He asked himself. It was a knock on the door that snapped him back into reality. Shit! If they found him like this they would instantly jail him, maybe even kill him and then he’d go straight back to hell.

_Maybe that isn’t such a bad thing?_

“Fuck off, not now!” He growled to himself, searching though the room for anything to defend himself with. Another knock on the door, this one more impatient. If he listened closely, he could hear the voice of a nurse calling for a Mr. Smith.

Dean’s eyes landed on the window, and to his luck he was on the first floor. Pain flared up his feet as he ran towards the window, but he ignored it and jumped out. He would only have a few minutes before the nurse would get a security guard or something and have the door unlocked. And he needed to be as far away from the hospital by then.

Still dressed in hospital clothing, he ran, taking the most unpopulated route he could think of. Though it didn’t matter if people saw him or not. He would have to get back to the motel and warn Sam. And they would have to pack up and get to Bobby’s as fast as possible.

\--

“You’re going to have to tell him, you know?” Ruby said as she slid on her bra. A thick coat of sweat was covering Sam after their little… ehm, workout session. However Ruby seemed completely fine. The only thing that gave away their little secret was a fresh, still bleeding wound. Sam stared at it, feeling his mouth water. He’d taken so much, yet he still wanted, no- needed more.

“Hello? Earth to Sam, come in Sam?” Ruby said, waving her hand in front of Sam to wake him from his trance. Sam shook his head to try and clear his thoughts.

“Hm, what?” He asked, having already forgotten her words. Ruby rolled her eyes.

“Dean you idiot. One of these days you’re going to have to tell him about us, about you” She said. Sam went pale at the mere thought. Dean would hate him forever if he knew what Sam and Ruby were doing together.

“He… he doesn’t understand” he mumbled, reaching out for his shirt.

“Oh really? Which part, the fact that not all demons are evil, or that his brother is the only one who can prevent the coming apocalypse and needs said demon’s blood to do so?” She asked him sarcastically. Sam sighed and pulled the shirt over his head. It felt uncomfortable against his wet skin, but he ignored it and started on his pants as well. Ruby was already dressed by the time he’d gotten to his first sock.

“Sam, one way or another he’s going to find out, and if it’s not from you then he’s going to be pissed” Ruby commented.

“He’s going to be pissed anyway!”

“Personally I think there’s a lot more to Dean than meets the eye. If you just talk to him then I’m sure he’ll-” Before she could even finish her sentence, Sam’s phone rang. Sam stared at it for a while, not recognizing the number on the caller ID. Hesitantly, he brought it to his ear.

“Hello?” He asked. “yes, that’s me” Sam went pale as the other person spoke. Ruby gave him a questioning look, but knew better than to interrupt. Instead, she turned to look out the window of the motel room.

“Are you sure it was him? I mean- every window? Wow… that really doesn’t sound like my brother. Yeah. I get that, but still…” Sam was quiet for a while as the other person spoke. Ruby was circling the room, eyes never leaving the window. A strange… power, anger, was coming from there, but she couldn’t see what it was. However, she could take a huge guess, and the thought made her shiver.

“Right… no he hasn’t been here. I’ll keep a look out. No, there’s no need to send troops, I’m coming over there as soon as I can. As long as we find my brother, I don’t like the thought of him being out there alone. Alright, bye” Sam let the phone fall from his hand. His façade dropped instantly and he stood from the bed, still missing one sock.

“that was the hospital” He said out loud, not really speaking to anyone. He just had to get the words out. Ruby stared at him, prompting him to continue. “Dean is… gone. They found the corpse of a doctor in his room and every window was broken. I think something might have taken him, going over there to investigate,” He said as he grabbed his jacket and simply stepped into his shoes.

“What do you think took him?” Ruby asked, eyes darting towards the window. Sam didn’t seem to notice, but instead answered.

“I don’t know. The thing that’s been playing around with us, leaving these messages everywhere maybe? All I know is I need to get him back”

“He could have ran away you know” Ruby called after him when he opened the door and stepped outside, getting ready to get into the impala.

“Didn’t you hear me? A guy was found dead in the room. Dean is no killer, which means something must have killed that man and taken my brother” And with those words, Sam slammed the doors of the impala shut and drove off, leaving Ruby alone. She took one glance towards the window where she could have sworn he saw movement.

“You so sure about that?” She said before disappearing in thin air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating in a while. School has started again, so writing has to be put asidefor school work. But I promise I will start woking on the next chapter as soon as possible! Thank you all for keeping with me this far. 
> 
> I'm not really that happy with this chapter, but at the same time it feels like the best I could do at the moment. I hope i can get this story back on track soon.   
> Also, how was seeing Alastair, hm? 
> 
> I love ya all :)


	13. Chapter 13

Dean was lying on the bed. He’d entered as soon as Ruby was gone and fallen straight into the comfort of the motel bed. His mind was racing, trying to keep up with the image of the dead doctor, Alastair… Sam and Ruby. God, he still couldn’t believe that Sam was… That bitch’s smell was still all over the place, disgusting. It made him want to cough up his own lung so he wouldn’t need to breathe in the stank. How could he have been so stupid and not realize that the demon had been following them? An angry growl escaped him, but it quickly turned into a snarl of hatred. He was going to find and kill that bitch, he swore to...

“Dammit!” He said, and the lights flickered as a surge of power flowed through him. Dean stopped, staring at the flickering lights. He could feel something prickle under his skin, warm and strangely comfortable. An idea hit him, and he closed his eyes as he focused on the lights. Dean imagined reaching out for the lights with his hands, grabbing hold of it. The heat didn’t hurt him, so he squeezed the bulb. Tighter and tighter until,

BAM! Dean’s eyes flew open in surprise. The room was dark. Broken glass and sparks rained down on him from where the light source had once been. He stared up at the ceiling in awe, still feeling the after effects of power surging through him.

“Holy shit…” He mumbled, sitting up. Luckily enough light seeped in through the windows, and so he managed to avoid most of the broken glass spread around on the floor. God, he needed a drink.

Careful not to step on any pieces of the shattered light, he made his way over to the kitchenette. He didn’t bother with a glass, reaching for the bottle and chugging down a big portion of it. The whiskey felt good in his belly, and he soon found himself back on the bed with the bottle in his hand. After a few more chugs, Dean was lying sprawled out on the bed staring into nothing. He’d managed to break the light, and more importantly, he’d killed that poor doctor.

He wondered what his dad would say if he knew. Sam having powers was one thing, dad had handled that. But Dean? No… Dean couldn’t even imagine John doing anything but shiv him the moment he turned his back. The “Winchester greeting” They’d called it in hell, since apparently, John had escaped the rack once and attacked any demon he came across before Alastair had restrained him. No… John would show nothing but disappointment in him. And his fate would be death because of the doctor.

 _But Alastair would be proud_ That voice whispered, now stronger than ever. Dean nodded in agreement. Alastair would most definitely start carving people in joy. He knew he shouldn’t have, but he chuckled at the thought of Alastair celebrating anything. He’d even seen the demon celebrate before, yet the thought was still strange to him. The day Dean accepted him, not when he got off the rack because he couldn’t take it anymore. The day Dean _really_ accepted him into his life. The day Dean had first smiled at seeing his mentor. That was the day Dean had crossed the point of no return, the day his fate had been sealed and he would stay with Alastair forever.

Well, those plans quickly changed when the angels had come for Dean. Throwing Alastair out of the cell and taking Dean back to earth. Part of Dean hoped Alastair was angry for it. It somehow made him feel better if someone cared for once would care where he went. His dad had never cared, not since his mother died and he became obsessed with finding the thing that killed her, completely forgetting he even had children that needed love and care. Alastair had been different. At first, he seemed to treat Dean just like any other soul that was unfortunate enough to be put on his rack. Then Dean couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t take the agony, the mind games, everything. It was when he, himself picked up that blade that Alastair had changed completely. He’d gone from brutal, manipulative demonic lord to something Dean had always needed but never gotten. Someone who looked at his work and smiled, praised him for a job well done. Whenever Dean had killed a ghost or stopped a skin walker, John had simply nodded at him because it was just a job that had been done correctly. Alastair looked at Dean’s work much like a parent seeing their kid’s drawing and realizing that the child could actually knew how to use a pencil.

Dean sighed. It felt like his mind was battling with itself. One part rooting for Alastair, the other fighting for John. Two different beings, two different father figures and the evil one had done the job better than the human one. Dean snickered at the thought. Old John would have his head for thinking like that. Alastair on the other hand, would probably give him a head for thinking like that…

 

_“What did you say boy?” Alastair said, grinning down at the much smaller man. Alastair was unnaturally high, even to demons he stretched further towards the sky. His ling slender, hooved legs reached Dean’s bellybutton. The demon’s curled back bended over him to stare into the soul of his new favorite plaything. To anyone else, it was a clear sign of dominance and a promise that if they tried to escape, he would swoop down and rip them to pieces. However to Dean, it was a sign of protection. No one would ever touch him as long as Alastair stood this tall over him like a dragon guarding it’s egg. That’s how Dean felt under Alastair’s height, and that’s how he felt most comfortable these days. He knew some demons did not agree on Alastair’s choice of keeping him here instead of turning him into another daeva._

_Dean shifted under the shadow of his master, sitting down on a sharp rock. The pointed edges had long since stopped bothering him._

_“How did you end up here, in hell?” Dean repeated his question. For a second, it looked as if Alastair was going to strike him down with a pointed claw ready to pierce his chest. Dean closed his eyes, preparing for the blow, the pain._

_It never came. Hesitantly, he opened his eyes to see his demonic father staring down at him. An almost sad smile twisted his skeletal features, and instead of punishing Dean for his insolence, the demon sat down next to him. Still roaming far above him however. The demon pulled out a blade, inspecting it slowly. Dean knew what was coming now, and he felt his guts turn in anticipation._

_Alastair placed the blade on his wrist and slowly pushed it in, dragging it down until a gaping wound was left emitting the same red glow that came from his cracked porcelain skin. He brought the wound to Dean, who stared up at him in anticipation. Never do anything unless given the command. That had been his number one rule on earth and inn hell. Just as he expected, Alastair nodded and Dean latched onto the wound. He didn’t have to do anything but stand there and let the red glowing essence of hell itself seep into his body._

_“I was destined for hell ever since the day of my birth. What I did on earth didn’t matter. I could have saved an entire city from death and I would have still ended up here” Dean stared up at him in silence question, but knew that Alastair didn’t like him interrupting._

_“One could say I was born to be one of hell’s soldiers. Kind of the same way you are being reborn through my essence. Hell was a part of me even in my mother’s womb, just as my mother wanted. On the day of my birth, hell took in over a thousand souls in celebration, for I was it’s child. And these” he motioned towards the cracks in his skin. Similar cracks had started forming on Dean’s skin as well, only not as powerful yet. Dean could feel Alastair’s essence blend in with his soul, settling down comfortably in the midst of fading light. “These cracks have always been there. I was born with them…_

_I was never human Dean, never. And when I died on earth, my inhuman soul went home. I was reunited with the mother that left me on earth, and I was twisted into the form you see today” Dean didn’t have to be a genius to understand what Alastair was telling him. He’d heard legends of the antichrist on earth, read about them in books he couldn’t remember the names of. But to think that his master was one of those few souls that was born out of hell’s will… No wonder other demons were scared of him._

_That’s when Alastair pulled away, and the wound closed itself. Dean smiled up at him, and to his surprise, Alastair smiled back. Not the twisted, sadistic smirk Dean had grown to fear and love at the same time. No, Alastair was smiling at him. And though there was no such thing as care or love in his smile, there was loyalty and will._

_“So… you were born a demon?” Dean asked, taking this rare liberty to speak even though he didn’t have permission to do so. Alastair, for once, didn’t seem to mind. He lifted his pointed finger and drew a line across Dean’s forehead, like a small crown had been placed there. Blood spilled from his skin, but Dean ignored the pain. He knew that was as close as his master got to affection._

_“Only half…” Alastair smiled, licking the blood off his fingertip. “Sleep now my son, you have work to do later. And this is one of the few times I will allow you to rest properly” Alastair said in that echoing voice that seemed to make decisions for him. Dean felt his will slowly fade away as his sunken inn eyelids drifted close._

_“Yes father”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clear some things up. Dean is NOT drinking demon blood from Alastair. There is no "real" blood in hell, so what he's getting is 100% pure demonic essence (aka the black cloud that escapes vessels when they're exorciced. Only Alastair is not just a regular demon, so his essence is all glowing and fancy in hell) And he is not addicted to it either. To him it's just like drinking a power buff, not drugs like Sam. So... just making that clear.  
> Also, how are you guys enjoying this relationship between Alastair and Dean so far? Was it nice seeing this sid of Alastair, or do you hate it beyond imagination. Cus if you do, you just tell me to change it :)


	14. Chapter 14

“The tapes won’t tell you much, I’ll tell ya that” The nurse. A woman in her mid 40ies with dark skin and even darker curly hair, told him as she fiddled with her keys. After a few seconds of trying different keys and mumbling to herself about marking them. Finally, she found the matching key and the lock gave of the telltale click. With a satisfied smirk on her lips, she pushed it open revealing a small room full of boxes and security tapes dating back to 1979. She sighed, used to the sight but disappointed every time.

“We really need to update this system” She mumbled, walking in. Her finger trailed along the different boxes, all marked with a different number until she found the one she was looking for. “Here!” She exclaimed, pulling out the box full of newer-looking tapes. Sam raised an eyebrow at the complete mess the box contained, but didn’t question it when she easily pulled out her selected videotape.

“This is the one” She said, handing it over to him. With a polite smile, Sam took the tape from her hands. She led him out of the room and spent another five seconds trying to figure out how to lock the door behind her. Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. She was a good person and didn’t deserve him being rude after she went through the trouble of bringing him here, but by god she was right. They needed to update their system. The room was like finding Dean’s collection of cassettes all over again.

“Thank you very much mrs…” He said, hoping she would give him her name. Her face lit up, white teeth practically shining against the contrast of her dark skin.

“Marley” She said.

“Right. Thank you mrs Marley, I really appreciate you going through the trouble to help me find my brother” He thanked her. Mrs Marley’s smile softened in understanding. For a second Sam wondered what kind of story hid behind those coffee eyes of hers, intelligent and friendly.

“No problem at all Sam. I completely understand that you’re worried about your autistic older brother. It’s good to see siblings looking out for one another. Especially when the other is suffering from a mental illness” She said with a sad smile. Sam tried to smile back at her, but found it hard to move his lips. He hadn’t liked lying to her, not when she was so nice. But for Dean he would do anything, even fake his brother’s mentality.

“Oh! And before I forget, you probably won’t learn much from that tape. Can’t make any sense of it myself, but who knows, maybe you can. I’ll get you his clothes,” She said, walking ahead of him while mumbling to herself. “Should still be in the bag” Sam found himself shaking his head with an amused smile. He wondered what Dean’s comment on her would have been.

After a few minutes of following Mrs Marley around the hospital like a baby goose, he finally stood outside of the impala with a bag of clothes and the security tape safe in hand. He’d asked her about just giving it to him, but she had only smiled and told him that perhaps if some of the tapes went missing they would finally update the system. Sam had laughed at her comment, though he still felt slightly bad about just taking the tape.

Just as he was about to head out on the highway, he could hear his phone from his pocket. With eyes on the road and one hand on the wheel, he managed to fish out his phone and placed it to his ear.

“Winchester” He said.

 _“Sam, it’s Bobby”_ Sam heard the familiar voice, sounding worried despite the gruffness of the whiskey torn vocals. It was still relaxing to hear the familiar voice again. Bobby had been busy with a shapeshifted hunt and hadn’t been able to call or receive calls while he was gone. Sam had sent him a message about what happened to Dean.

“Bobby, man it’s good to hear your voice again” He said, telling the gods honest truth as well.

 _“You too kid… how’s your brother?”_ Bobby asked. Sam could have dropped the phone in shame. How the hell was he going to explain to Bobby that Dean was missing. He sighed, trying to gather the best words possible in his mind before speaking. Unlike Dean, Sam liked to think before spewing out words. Organization had helped him out of some pretty dangerous situations before.

“Well…. He’s…” Sam trailed off. He still didn’t have the right words. With a sigh in defeat, he decided to just tell it as it was and take the beating later. When Dean was safe. “He’s… missing” There was silence on the other end as the words sank in. Bobby took a deep breath, obviously trying to sort through his own chaotic thoughts. Understandable.

 _“He’s… missing?”_ Was all that came out. Despite trying to sound clam and collected, Sam easily picked up on the slight edge in his words.

“From the hospital… I don’t know what happened, but I’m pretty sure something took him. A doctor was found dead on the floor. His brain had been pressurized inside his skull with no sign of external injuries other than landing on a pile of broken glass” Sam explained. Bobby was silent again, probably to sort out his ideas for what it could have been.

 _“You mean like a wraith?”_ Bobby asked, finally. Sam shook his head, realizing that bobby couldn’t see him he gave a quick no instead.

“His brain had been under the same kind of pressure if he’d been diving 3000 feet underwater. It was basically liquid by the time he was found. Along with that, everything glass in the room seemed to be broken” He said, trying to sound as if this was just another case and not his brother in the line. Bobby thought for a moment, and Sam took the time to try and gather his thoughts. He thought about the tape, and what horrors he might find there. His brother all alone in the world, just woken up from a coma. If he woke up at all. The thought of something taking his brother while still in a coma made him sick in his stomach.

_“I have nothing. My best guess would be a witch of some kind. Did you find a hex bag?”_

“Didn’t get to check out the room. They were still… cleaning it” Sam said with regret. He should have thought of witch the moment Mrs Marley had told him of the doctor’s state. He heard Bobby sigh on the other end. The knot in his stomach tightened uncomfortably

 _“I’ll look into it. In the meantime however,”_ Sam could hear papers being thrown carelessly over the hunter’s shoulder and being pushed aside. _“I think I might’ve found something on your case”_ Sam nearly drove off the road in shock. He was starting to loose hope that they would ever find anything. Maybe, the thing that wrote the messages also had Dean! It seemed like it had been playing with them for a while now, maybe it finally decided to strike.

“Really? Whatcha find?” He asked.

 _“Well, after a few interrogations and some hefty research, I found out that apparently there’s a big boss demon roaming earth. Goes by the name of Alastair. The demons I’ve been interrogating seemed more afraid of him than me and making em’ speak was hard, but I learned a few things about the guy”_ Bobby paused, going over his notes again. Sam decided to take the liberty to stop the car on the side of the road.

 _“Right! So Alastair is the chief torturer in the pit and incredibly powerful. In fact some of them meant that only Lilith could top him, and even she is in deep shit if he decided to turn against her. I did some research and found that he is definitely mentioned in some pretty dark stories, last sighted during world war 2. See how that fits the pattern?”_ Sam nodded, remembering how last time the strange symbols had been sighted had been during world war 2. _“This guy is a huge deal down stairs. Sam this guy is a big deal and incredibly powerful. Whatever you do, don’t try and hunt this guy down. I’ve been through enough funerals and if you die before me I’ll kill you in the after life”_ Bobby finished. Sam was quiet. Hundreds of emotions seeped into him and mixed together like putty. Mostly fear for what this demon would want with them. He’d make sure to ask Ruby about it later on. Right now, Dean was his number one priority.

“I would do that, but I feel like we’re the ones being hunted… Listen. I’ll contact you again as soon as I find anything. You keep an eye out Bobby. Call me if you need anything” He said. Bobby gave a content hum and the two hunters hung up. As soon as the phone was silent, Sam let his head drop to the steering wheel. Breathing heavily, he tried to calm his nerves.

After a few minutes, he felt ready to keep driving. Now with a powerful demon on his mind and the worry for his brother.

 _If I become strong enough to kill Lilith, I can kill Alastair._ He thought, driving back to the motel.

 

Sam didn’t know what he expected when he opened the door. Well, what he was expecting the most was an empty room like how he left it. He dug out his motel keys and reached for the door. To his surprise however, the door was already unlocked. Ruby usually locked the door when she left, so he instinctively reached for his demon-killing blade. Careful not to make too much noise, he opened the door.

The room was dark, making it hard to see anything at all since the sun was already gone from the sky. Sam reached for the light switch he knew was to his left. His fingers brushed against the cold plastic, and he flipped it up.

Nothing… Confused, Sam flipped the switch down again. Again, nothing happened. He stepped inside, going for the flashlight he had in his duffle.

Something crunched underneath his boot, making him jump in surprise. Despite him barely being able to see two feet before him, he quickly realized what it was. The broken pieces of the lightbulb.

He reached his duffle, finally. Grabbing the flashlight, he turned it on and scanned the room. At first there seemed to be nothing there. The room was completely untouched, minus the broken lightbulb of course. Then he reached the bed besides him, and he had no idea how he didn’t notice it earlier.

He stopped in shock, nearly dropping the flashlight. In the bed, curled around the blanket and pillow, was Dean. For once looking semi peaceful in his slumber. No muffled screams, no yanking or shaking. A whiskey bottle lay on the ground, leaking out some of it’s content on the ground. Sam stared at his brother in a mix of confusion and relief. Then the image of the doctor came to mind, and his relief was quickly pushed aside for worry.

“Dean?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter is a bit shorter than the other ones. I honestly have no idea anymore XD Anyways! New update! And what's this? Bobby knows who Alastair is? That can't be good, can it? Anywho! I hope you all enjoy this chapter. 14 chapters is a lot. I never thought this story woud go this far, but you guys keep motivating me to continue. Thank you all so much!


	15. Chapter 15

_“You know. Selling your soul for me is one thing, but this? This is just stalling” Alastair in the guise of Sam said as he slid a rusty knife across Dean’s abdomen. The cut was ragged and ripped, allowing the blood to flow freely though the evenly cut edges. “I mean, what are you even achieving anymore? You’re already in hell, so why pretend you’re still on earth?” That voice sounded too much like Sam, too close to the truth. Dean compressed a pained gasp as the knife slid down his inner thigh where the skin was thin and ripped easily. Alastair-Sam grinned down at him, hazel eyes full of sadistic evil. His words echoed through Dean’s head, nearly hypnotic. There was always that special tone when Alastair spoke. A tone telling him to listen, to understand… to obey. But Dean couldn’t. He wouldn’t let the demon win._

_“You’re not Sam. You can’t fool me Alastair” He snapped. His reward for speaking against the demon was a broken finger. No, scratch that. It was a missing finger. However Alastair’s face was emotionless as he spoke._

_“Maybe not, but it’s still getting to you” Sam-Alastair said, the hazel of Sam’s eyes were slowly swallowed by white. At the same time Sam grew taller, skinnier. His skin lost it’s rich color, replaced by a pale, dead color and glowing cracks. “And that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?_

_I mean, you sold your soul to bring your brother back from the dead. But what is it really for Sammy’s sake?” the demon said, turning to the table full of his favorite toys. He ran his fingers across the tools, in the end settling for a pair of tongs. With a grin, Alastair turned back to Dean. “Admit it Dean. You were weak. Weakened by the thought of being alone in the world. You didn’t sell your soul out of love for your brother. You sold it because you were scared and selfish. You didn’t want to be alone… now look at you? The famous Dean Winchester pathetically at my non-existent mercy” Dean shook his head. He was lying! He hadn’t sold his soul because he was selfish! Had he? No… no he hadn’t._

_Dean had to bite in a scream when one of his fingernails were slowly pushed back into his flesh until it was no longer visible. Alastair was going easy on him today, for some reason beyond Dean’s understanding. The demon grinned at his ever-failing attempt to contain his pain. With each millimeter his fingernails were pushed back, his scream became harder and harder to hold back. But he couldn’t allow Alastair the victory of hearing it. He couldn’t- damn it all! He screamed, and screamed until his voice would no longer listen to him, yet he continued to scream. Letting out the hours of never-ending pain and the eternal darkness of his own disappointing life. Then he cried, cried because Alastair was right. He was pathetic, he was alone and he’d been so selfish that he didn’t even allow his own brother the peace of death. Sam had probably been to heaven, back with his girlfriend, their mother. And he’d been so desperate that he’d pulled him back into the life he never wanted_ twice!

_A cold hand was placed on his cheek, running small circles on his cheek. The cold was comfortable compared to the raging heat that surrounded him, making it harder to breathe. Not that he needed air anymore. He didn’t notice how he leant into the cool touch, nor how he closed his eyes and just let the small comfort sink in for just a few seconds._

_“What’s the point of fighting it Dean?” That voice echoed through his mind. **say yes…** God how tempting it was to just give in… to just allow himself to sink into the comfort. To just let go and get off the rack. _

_“You won’t disappoint anyone, not down here” He knew he was a disappointment to his family. He’d done everything John told him to, yet he still wasn’t good enough. He was_ never _good enough! His sorrow deepened at the thought._

_“Down here… you can be independent. And in the end, you can be free” Dean’s eyes snapped open. Alastair was so close to him now, he could feel the demon’s icy breath against his neck. He ripped away from the comfortable touch, ignoring the spike of loss as he did._

_“Never!” He hissed, glaring at the demon. Alastair sighed, a small smile still present on his lips._

_“I was hoping you’d say that. After all, it’s only been twenty years” He grinned, reaching for another toy._

 

**Alastair looked over Lilith, skeptical. She was wearing another one of her beloved younglings. Throughout all the years they’d spent together, he would never understand her love for young children. Well, he got the part that she liked to twist people’s view of the innocent, but he would never understand why she even bothered.**

**“You know I find it strange seeing you in the shape of a child” He said. Lilith had her back turned to him, looking down at something in her hands. Alastair raised an eyebrow, moving closer to investigate.**

**“Of course you do. I’m older than you after all”**

**“I have more reasons than _that_ to find it strange, Lilith” He said, earning a chuckle from the older demon. **

**“He is most interesting” Lilith commented, staring into the goblet filled with blood. Alastair peeked over her small shoulder, catching a glance of Dean rolling over in his sleep. His boy was starting to regain some of his gifts from hell. However, he was still confused of where he belonged.**

**“Indeed he is” He answered, walking back to his latest victim. Lilith had brought him a polite young blonde to play with to keep him occupied while he waited for his own child to grow strong again. Waited for the right time to come back and welcome his son with open arms.**

**“And he killed your latest victim?” Alastair nodded in reply, picking out his new favorite scalpel on earth. Of course this was nothing like the tools he had in hell, but it did the job well enough on human flesh.**

**“Then he is still loyal to you?” Lilith asked, eyes never leaving the swirling pool of blood before her. Alastair sighed, placing the knife against the blonde’s skin. She thrashed in her chains, trying to scream through her make-shirt gag.**

**“What can I say? He is confused at the moment. Identity crisis really. Nothing I can’t carve out of him…” There was a thoughtful silence, well… minus the girl still twisting in her bindings and crying through the gag. But such a small thing couldn’t bother two demons like Lilith and Alastair.**

**“But you won’t?” Lilith asked him, though she already knew the answer.**

**“No…”**

**“And why is that?” She asked him once more. Alastair cut the woman’s throat with ease and the two of them watched her struggle for the life she’d already lost. When she finally stilled, Alastair turned to face Lilith again, his vessel’s unnatural grin stretching from ear to ear.**

**“Because, _Dear mother_ … I have something even better planned out for him” **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for not updating in a while. I've been busy with my other story Fallen from Grace that i completely forgot this story needs updating too XD And I guess I kind of lost inspiration as well and didn't know what to do next. you can all thank my wonderful cat companion for inspiering me. (do not ask how she inspires me. I'm NOT crazy just because i like talking to my dear cat!)
> 
> And I'm sorry this chapter is a bit on the short side. I'll try to do better for you guys in the future :( 
> 
> On the other note. Since today is mother's day (and valentines day, but no one cares about that unless you're single. And throughout my 20 000 years of life I've only had a couple of boyfriends/girlfriends, so screw that) I decided to drop the bomb on you all. Remember how Alastair is the antichrist, and that he was half demon even when he was still alive? Well... he wasn't just any antichrist (That sounded better in my head...). My dear viewers, Alastair is the son of the one and only Lilith! Tadaaaahhhh.   
> He has his mother's eyes. Isn't that cute? XD


	16. Chapter 16

“Dean!” Sam practically yelled. Dean startled awake just as the sound of hellhounds howling ripped through his ears. Out of pure instinct, he reached for the weapon he knew he always kept close. His fingers brushed nothing but air. Panicked, he tried to make one appear in his hand without result. Desperately, he looked around the dirty room he was inn in search of a weapon.

“Dean! Calm down. It’s me” Said a voice so familiar it made his head ring.

“Sammy?” He asked into the shaded room. A tall figure stood over him, the silhouette of Sam unmistakable. Then everything came tumbling back on him. He was out of hell now, out of Alastair’s talons and back on earth with his brother. His _lying_ brother, his brain hissed at him. Then the image of the doctor came to mind. The lights flickering… exploding. Holy shit! Dean’s panic bubbled up again.

“Th-The doctor… he- I didn’t…” He tried to explain to Sam, tried to explain everything. But his words tripped over each other and stumbled out his mouth in all the wrong orders. He kept fumbling through unrecognizable words until the word ‘demon’ slipped through his dry lips. Sam gripped him by the shoulders tight, too tight, _too tight!_ Dean felt he had to bite down a surprised scream.

“Demon? Did you see it Dean?” a new emotion slipped in through Dean’s clouded mind. Confusion. Sam’s words didn’t make any sense. Had he seen the demon? “Dean. Did you see the demon?” Sam repeated. Dean was confused, but found himself nodding automatically. _Lie when you’re confused, liar liar liar!_ Dean hissed at himself, though Sam didn’t seem to notice the low sound escaping his brothers lips.

“Are you okay? How did you escape?” Escape? He’d killed the man. Didn’t Sam realize that? _Don’t spoil it…_ Dean didn’t say anything, just sat there and stared up at his brother. His face was emotionless. Sam recognized the symptoms of shock instantly. So instead of waiting for the delayed reply, he focused on checking his brother for injuries.

Dean seemed relatively in good shape, on the outside at least. That is until Sam got to his bare feet. There were deep cuts and still shards of broken glass from the hospital floor buried deep in the flesh. Dean couldn’t really feel the pain, mostly because he’d forgotten all about it. However when Sam found it a good idea to try and pick out a bigger chunk of glass, the pain returned in a flash. Before Sam had the ability to react, Dean had ripped his feet away from him. His brother let out a sharp snarl, flaring his teeth like an angry animal. Sam jumped back in surprise at the sudden outburst. For a second, something flickered behind Dean’s eyes. A mix of hatred and predatory instinct that was gone within a second.

“Sorry…” Dean said, quickly catching himself in his mistake. He had to remind himself that this wasn’t hell. This was earth and on earth, brothers took care of each other. _Just like Master took care of me back home…_

Sam knew something was wrong. The way Dean suddenly zoned out. His brother had been acting strange ever since he got out of hell, but this was different. There was something Dean wasn’t telling him, and Sam would be damned if he didn’t see how much Dean needed help.

“We need to get you back to the hospital. Those wounds are going to get infected” Dean’s green eyes snapped back to him, panicked at the very thought of _that_ hospital.

“No! No no, not there. Anywhere but there! No hospitals” the image of the doctor flashed through his mind again. Blood running down pale cheeks as his grey eyes slowly melted out of their sockets. “Call Bobby. He has a first aid kit. He can help… just no hospitals” Dean quickly added. Sam, unable to do anything else in fear of causing another small panic attack, or worse, nodded. He fished his phone out of his pocket.

“You get some rest… I’ll call Bobby and tell him we’re coming” Dean seemed instantly relaxed at his words. “But Dean, we’re going to have to pluck those glass shards out of your feet. They’ll get infected” Dean just shook his head. He knew he wouldn’t get an infection, could feel it to his very soul. Sam sighed in defeat.

“Fine. At least get dressed or something. There are some clean clothes in your duffle. I’ll go talk to Bobby” Sam said over his shoulder. The younger brother closed the door behind him, disappearing out of Dean’s view.

Dean lay back on the bed, trying his best to shake the good feeling slowly creep up his spine. The image of the dead doctor still fresh in his mind and oh God… it felt good. He recalled holding the man’s life in his hands. Ultimate power over another person’s fate. And then the power that had surged through him when it happened. He hadn’t felt so powerful since he’d gotten off the rack and Alastair had taken him under his wing.

After a few seconds of just lying on the bed and staring up into the dark ceiling, he got bored. Finally settling for fulfilling Sam’s command and get dressed in something that actually covered his ass.

Outside, Sam was dialing Bobby’s number with shaky fingers. Something was wrong with Dean. He didn’t know if he was possessed, or if it was something else, but something was definitely wrong. Dean Winchester doesn’t growl at people, not in that way, especially not at his own brother.

“Sam?” Bobby said into the phone. Sam had to take a deep breath, calming his nerves.

“Hey Bobby… I ah, I found Dean” Bobby gave a relieved sigh from the other end of the phone.

“What happened, is he alright?” The worried reply finally came.

“That’s the thing Bobby… I don’t know. I just found him in the bed, sleeping. And he’s not exactly acting himself. He seems more confused, more… I don’t even know anymore, panicked?” He tried making sense of it in his head before speaking, but he honestly didn’t know.

“Something at that hospital scared him though. He refuses to go back there again. He’s too afraid” Those words left a strange taste in his mouth. Dry like ash and bitter.

“Well… my door is always open for ya boys. You know that”

“No Bobby, you’re missing the point. Dean is too _scared_ to go back to the hospital. Dean is never scared, or at least he doesn’t show it by freaking out and _growling_ ” Bobby was quiet on the other end. What felt like hours went by in total silence before Bobby finally gave his reply:

“I see… well, you boys better hurry then. I’ll ready your rooms” Sam nodded, though Bobby couldn’t see it. Then the phone line ended and Sam was left alone in the darkness outside the motel room where his brother was hopefully getting dressed and ready to leave. He fished out a small, silver bottle from the inner pocket of his jacket.

“Dean?” Sam asked as he peeked through the motel door. The room was still dark, but he could see Dean sitting on his bed trying to figure out how he could put on his socks and keep his pain to a minimum at the same time. Upon hearing his brother’s voice, Dean’s head snapped up.

“Well, what did Bobby say?” He asked.

“He’s getting our rooms ready. If we leave now we’ll be there in about an hour or so” Sam answered, reaching Dean the silver bottle.

“What’s that?” Dean asked, hesitantly taking the bottle from his brother’s outstretched hand.

“Whiskey. I’m driving by the way” Dean stared at him for a second, contemplating whether he should allow Sam to drive his beloved impala or not. In the end he figured he might as well since the glass in his feet would make driving hard. Then he looked down at the bottle of whiskey. Taking a big swig of it and swallowing, he realized that it wasn’t whiskey at all, but holy water. Of course Sam would have to check him for demonic possession, smart little Sammy.

“Not Whiskey” Was all he said, handing the bottle back to Sam with a slight smile. Sam did his best to make his smile seem legit, but Dean saw right through it. His little brother was worried and unsecure. _He has no idea…_ That voice hissed at him in dark humor. Surprisingly, he found himself snickering. Yes, there was something funny having the power over Sammy’s knowledge about him. Something he’d always enjoyed really.

The two brothers got into the impala. Sam, for once, in the drivers seat while Dean managed to get himself into the shotgun seat next to him. The drive to Bobby’s was relatively quiet. Dean was falling inn and out of sleep, resting his head against the window while Sam drove down the empty road.

“You wanna know something funny Sammy?” Dean asked suddenly, sounding tired of pretty much everything.

“What?”

“I’m actually not twenty eight years old… I’m sixty eight. By the time I actually turn sixty eight I’ll be over a hundred” Dean said. Sam turned to give him a confused glance which Dean met without hesitation. Sam’s eyes were practically screaming for an explanation and again Dean just had to relish in the power he held over Sam right there.

“It’s hell… four months here was like forty years down there. It’s simple math really. I’m older than Bobby, but still look better though” Dean snickered. The thought was still strange to him. Older than Bobby… He went back to staring out the window, ignoring Sam’s desperate look.

The rest of the drive was in total silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapters! Whoooohoooo!!   
> What is this? is Dean starting to open up to Sam about hell (and his strange age) or is he allowing himself to sink further into the memories Alastair have granted him for the past 40 years?


	17. Chapter 17

Bobby was walking back and forth through his small living room. The boys’ rooms were ready and with nothing else to do, he’d made them dinner as well. Well, that is if a chicken sandwich could count as dinner. Half a chicken sandwich considering they’d have to share it because Bobby just had enough chicken for one.

 It had been over an hour and the boys had yet to arrive. The old hunter was thinking back on his conversation with Sam earlier. Sam had seemed really worried of his brother, which of course was something he was used to, but this time it was different. He’d been right. Dean was never outwardly scared of anything, that’s just how his mind worked after years of John’s training. Don’t show your fears, don’t show your weakness’. The word vulnerable didn’t really run in the Winchester blood-line. So when Sam said that Dean was too scared, something was definitely off. Of course it could just be Sam’s brotherly paranoia again, but something told Bobby different.

He glanced at the latest book he’d been reading, still opened wide on his desk. It was an old journal from some hunter who’d apparently encountered a demon during the plague times. The demon was possessing a knight of all things, and had introduced itself as Alastair. At first the hunter hadn’t even known he was a demon and they’d even worked together on the hunt. The journal had ended after the hunter had written down his suspicions about the knight. Bobby could only imagine that the confrontation didn’t go as planned.

Bobby grabbed the book again, brushing off some lingering dust. Just as he did, a small piece of paper fell out from the very back of the book. He hadn’t even noticed it’d been there. Opening to the other side of the book, he noticed a small room between the leather and the paper, just big enough to fit the note. Bobby frowned, bending down to pick up the old piece of paper. He had to be careful not to break the cried out paper as he unfolded it. On the other side was a handwritten note with a scribbled signature on the bottom.

_My dear friend._

_Life as a mortal is short. Shorter than I’d hoped. For I would so much like to spend more time with you. It is truly a shame you declined my invitation of training you. You would have made a great knight one day, friend._

_But who am I if I can’t understand the sacrifice you’ve made for duty. I will be the first to admit that I admire what you do, even if it goes unnoticed by most souls. You’re a hero draped in shadows, let’s keep it that way. The fewer people who knows what’s really out there, the better._

_My friend, when I met you I hoped to work with you forever. That is a hope I still haven’t let go of. See you soon._

_Your friend_

_Alastair_

Bobby let his eyes trail over the scribbled letter over and over. The way it seemed so human, so legit. And it was all part of some demon’s trick. He didn’t even want to think of what happened to this hunter.

“Please! Just let me go! I won’t tell them anything, I swear!” _Dammit…_ Bobby thought to himself. _She got loose again_. He sighed, casting a small glance towards the clock. The boys should be here any minute now according to Sam.

“Let me go! I don’t know anything!” He frowned, rubbing the spot between his eyes. She’d been at it for days now. Ever since he’d managed to capture her. At first she was acting tuff and hard, but with time and holy water her façade broke apart. Yet somehow she always got free from the makeshift gag he’d made. And when she did, it was back to begging and threatening. The boys would have to let themselves inn.

Bobby moved down the stairs to the small panic room where the demon was still stuck in her chair when he got down, the gag hanging loosely around her neck. Her black eyes caught him instantly.

“Please! Please let me go. I don’t know anything about _him_. No one but his son knows anything-” She froze instantly, sealing her lips together. Bobby had to resist the urge to grin. Make someone desperate enough and they would talk without even realizing it. That went for both humans and demons.

“Son, huh?” Bobby said, moving for the bottle of holy water. He felt no remorse for what he was about to do to the demon, only hoped he could avoid hurting the poor girl she was possessing. “And who exactly is this ‘son’?” he asked her. The demon looked down at her knees.

“What did I ever do to you? I just wanted to get out of hell for Christ’s sake! Is that too much to ask?” She snapped up at him, earning a splash of holy water right in the kisser. Casting her head back in surprise and pain, she let out a gargled scream.

“When I found you, you’d killed five people” was the only comment Bobby gave her. “Now, you were going to tell me about this ‘son’ of his. No one told me demons could have children” The female demon let out a sigh in defeat, shaking her head and mumbling something he couldn’t hear to herself.

“We can’t. Not genetically at least. Ever heard of adoption?” She snickered at her own joke, but went abruptly silent when Bobby held up his flask. It was a clear hint, and only one chance that she seemed determined enough to take.

“Alright. It’s a lot more brutal in hell however, and only the high rankers are allowed to do it. When a demon finds someone they think is worthy, they _claim_ them as their own and creates a demon out of their own image. You know how god said all that bullshit about creating humans in his image” She explained. Bobby eyes her suspiciously. She could be lying, hell, she’s most likely lying. God knows demons lied all the time, but he couldn’t find a motive. And the story she was telling was most definitely fascinating.

“And this… Alastair’s son… who is he?” He asked, drawing out every word as if to make the message easier for her to understand.

“I don’t know! No one goes close to Alastair of their own free will except for Lilith. You have no idea how bad he is. I encountered him once and five seconds into a conversation he ripped me in half. Literally… All I know that that whoever Alastair picked to be _his_ heir must have been some special soul. As far as I know, he’d never done it before. They say he’s as old as hell itself, some say he was born there, but no one I know knows anything. If you want info on Alastair, you want his son”

“And where can I find this demon?” She was just about to answer him when the door opened and closed. Heavy footsteps echoed across the wooden floor, making it creak and groan. The demon looked up at the source of the sound.

“Help me! Please help me. This guy is insane!” The demon screamed. The footsteps stopped abruptly, and for a few seconds there was only silence.

“Bobby?” Came the voice of Sam. The demon’s eyes widened when she realized that it was just another hunter. Bobby gave her a sarcastic frown, stuffing her mouth with the piece of cloth before leaving her alone once again. Hopefully this time the silence would last.

“Bobby” Sam acknowledged, moving in for a fast hug. Bobby returned it, giving Sam a strong pat on the back. “I need some help moving him out of the car… he says it’s too painful to walk” The two left to get Dean. After a few minutes of pained gasps from Dean and annoyed groans from the others, they finally got Dean in the couch. Bobby went to get the first air kit downstairs, at the same time making sure the demon was still there. She sat still in her chair, casting angry glares at him. If only looks could kill and all that.

“Really Sam, I’m fine! Now shut the fuck up and help me with my socks” He heard upon returning to the living room. On the couch Dean was sitting up staright with his legs resting on a smaller stool. Sam was trying to carefully remove his socks, which was easier said than done due to the dried bloodstains. Dean compressed his pain with each inch his socks slowly pulled at shards of glass. God he hated this. The karma for killing the doctor.

It bothered him how easily that thought slipped through his defenses without him noticing.

“Move Sam,” Bobby said, pushing Sam out of the way. In one swift movement, he’d removed the sock simply by ripping it off Dean’s foot. Dean bit his tongue till he could taste copper.

“What the hell did you do _that_ for?!” He snapped through gritted teeth. Bobby looked up from his foot, eyebrows raised.

“Like a plaster” He said, returning his attention to Dean’s feet. Something inside Dean screamed in rage. How dare this man, this mortal, hurt him? _him!_ Only one person got to cause Dean pain, and that was Alastair. No one else!

He shook his head, trying to push his thoughts back without much success. However he didn’t get much time to think about it before another sock was ripped off. He could feel shards move in his flesh and wounds ripping open. Dean could feel animalistic rage bubble up inside him, and it took all his willpower not to unleash it. Once again he could feel power trickle under his skin in thick layers, and he did all he could not to unleash it.

“God damn, Dean. How’d you manage to get yourself in this mess. It looks like you’ve mistaken a window for a trampoline” Bobby commented, reaching for his latex surgical gloves.

Dean didn’t know how he managed through the process without breaking anything or lashing out on Bobby out of pure instinct. And while Bobby was adding the clean bandages, he got an idea. He focused on his feet, his wounds, the blood still flowing freely. He focused all he had on sealing those wounds. At first nothing happened, so he focused even harder. It felt like he was forcefully pushing cold water down his legs. Agonizingly slowly as well. He had to pause three times just to clear his head off the growing headache.

Finally, he could feel the wounds slowly, but surely stitch together. Relief flowed through him, followed by a bit of pride. Maybe with some training, these powers could come in handy.

_Maybe I can return to who I was…_


	18. Chapter 18

_Lilith was walking down the claustrophobic hallways. A rich layer of blood already coated her bare feet, making each step itchy and sticky. However the current queen of hell paid it no mind. She’d been through oceans of blood and had her whole body covered in the liquid. No, the feel of blood was nothing new to her. Nor the cobblestone walls on each side of her, threatening to close in on her and squash her like a bug. But hell wouldn’t do that, not to her._

_Usually the hallways were bigger than this, with demons guarding every room to make sure that if a soul got lucky, they wouldn’t be for long. That was the first mistake they’d made with John Winchester. Leave his cell unguarded. Then again if there was a soul that could escape hell through it’s own gates, it was John. No matter. Lilith was quite happy to just be rid of him, really. After all, they got something so much better in return._

_These hallways were different however. The souls who resided in these cells had no hopes of escape. No, those hopes were crushed after a few days. There were no guards, no random bystanders. Not here… And that’s exactly how he wanted it._

_Her son had always been an isolated one. Especially on earth where he grew up with deformed features and twisted urges. Those around him had no idea the favor they did him when they slaughtered him in the name of their Lord. Now Alastair resided here, in his own workspace hidden away behind tight cobblestone hallways. For thousands of years he’d been all alone except the unlucky souls who found themselves in his clutches. And Lilith herself of course. She was always delighted to watch her son work. A mother should be proud of her child’s achievements._

_Which brought her in front of one particular cell door. From the inside, she could hear singing. A low, rumbling voice murmuring words to an unfamiliar tune._

_“Beautiful misery, sing your screams to me…” The song was cut off by a blood gargling scream and what sounded like a mockery of calming words mumbled softly. Then he continued his twisted song: “Rivers of red and mountains of bones, create my art from thee-” This time Lilith could hear an agonizingly slow crack as bone bended under his weight. “Slowly but surely the knife slides by…” Another scream “Marking your skin in darkness” There was a thoughtful pause, followed by muffled screams_

_“Shush now… I’m trying to think” The man behind the door mumbled to the soul on his rack. The man repeated the tune he’d been singing to for a while, tasting the different notes on his lips._

_“Slipping and screaming, deeper we fall. Further and further in madness… There we got it!” He said proudly. Just as the words escaped his lips, Lilith opened the door without knocking. The man, once so righteous, didn’t even turn to look at who it was. His back was turned to her as he continued to work and whistle to his song. Lilith closed in on him, peeking over his bony shoulder to observe the soul, or at least what was left of it on the rack._

_What once used to be a man, a politician famous for his self-centered stupidity and idiotic haircut, was now nothing but a bloody mess on Dean’s rack. His ribs had been knocked out and stuffed down his throat. An experiment to see how many he could stuff inn before the jawbone broke. Most of his inner organs had been carefully and slowly removed from their cozy places and were lying neatly on a silver tray. Still, this was too messy to be Alastair. Every cut Alastair made was a cut of thought and proportion. Dean however seemed to be less thoughtful and a more “go for it” type of torturer. Both were more than welcomed in the pit. What used to be the man’s right leg was now a twisted mockery of an arm? Dean had somehow carved the foot to look like a clawed hand._

_“To represent his greed. Thought he could do with some more arms” Dean commented without looking up from where he was now picking at the man’s exposed arteries like a child picking at his salad._

_“I see… very clever” Lilith said, scanning the sight before her. When Dean first arrived, he’d seemed so strong. Yet after thirty years of Alastair’s treatment and nearly ten years of going from puppet to son, Dean was truly a sight for sore eyes. If the person with sore eyes wanted to have them carved out and put on a keychain._

_“Did father send you here to talk to me about hellhound incident?” Dean asked after a while of just picking at the man’s wrist. The politician would bleed out in a bit, might as well just let him and be done with it. He turned to face Lilith, no sign of fear in his dark eyes. Lilith didn’t know if she should smile in pride or frown in confusion. Most demons and humans alike feared her, Dean had as well in the beginning. Now he didn’t seem to fear anything, not even Alastair._

_“No… Although he did tell me about it. It’s normal to be afraid of the hellhounds in the beginning”_

_“I wasn’t scared! It tried to bite me, so I slit it’s throat” Dean said, sounding suspiciously like a pouting teenager. According to Alastair Dean was regaining more of his bravo with each passing day. Only now it came with a twisted sense of humor as well. The older demon seemed delighted that Dean was returning to his own self, so Lilith could only assume it was a good thing._

_“Well, what did you think it was going to do? Roll over and lick your face?” She asked mockingly, receiving an annoyed growl in return. Lilith chuckled._

_“Why are you here?” He snapped at her, though there was a certain playfulness in his voice that he couldn’t hide from her. Lilith smirked. He reminded her of Alastair when he was a teen. Though if that was a good or a bad memory, she didn’t know._

_“Can’t a mother be allowed to see her son’s creation?” She asked, circling him like a vulture. Dean eyed her suspiciously, but didn’t do anything to stop her when she allowed her fingers to travel alongside his jawline. For a second she wondered if she could cut into that flesh and watch him bleed, but decided against it. Alastair would be allowed to have this one to himself. She just wanted to watch him grow._

_“Well, this creation is working so he’s a bit busy” Dean grumbled, watching with little interest as the man on his rack slowly stitched together. Sometimes it just took too long for souls to regenerate._

_“All work no play makes Dean a grumpy child” Lilith whispered mockingly into his ear, sending a set of shivers down his spine. “Sure you don’t want to take a little break? Just spread your wings and explore this world you’re in?” She asked, words dripping with poisonous honey. Dean looked up at her, eyes emotionless._

_“Not without Alastair” was all he said before he turned back to the soul. Almost done now, and he could get back to the fun. Politicians were mostly boring because all he had to use against them was their own self-loving personality, but carving and experimenting always had its moments._

_Lilith stared at him for a while, making sure he was really serious. She’d just offered him a way out of these cells and see hell for what it was really like, but he’d rejected her. He had refused to go without his father’s say-so. What a loyal little soul he was_

_“Good…”_

The house was small, at least on the outside it was. A single, small house in a sea of broken cars and rusty metal. Still, she could feel the magic within it. Magic meant to keep things like her out or prevent their departure. Every wall was covered in small, glowing markings from around the world. Most of them she recognized, others were foreign even to her, but reeked of power.

She closed her eyes and focused on the inside of the house, on each beating heart. There was one demon, though mostly hidden behind the foggy walls of a devil’s trap. What a poor little fool. A human, old and weak but radiating wisdom. Close to him was another, mostly human soul. The famous Sam Winchester. She could feel the demon blood pumping through his veins. Allowing herself a small smile, she focused on the last soul. He was further away from the others, probably resting.

His soul was a mess. She was sure that if she could see it, it would be a mix of darkness speckled with light. Even on earth, Alastair’s influence was working its way through his system. This boy was reeking of power, just like he had in hell.

Lilith’s smile grew into a small smirk.

Righteous man no more, this man would do heaven no good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting some Lilith into it all. And look! Dean is recovering from hell :D And he's still in hell


	19. Chapter 19

Dean was already feeling better, sitting in Bobby’s couch with a cold beer in his hands. He hadn’t taken a single sip and the two other hunters kept casting worried looks his way. However, Dean simply ignored them and continued to stare down at his bandaged feet. The skin was still tickling and itching after he’d used… whatever it was.

The stench of sulfur clotted the air around the trio, the scent was faint and yet, it clung stubbornly to the males. Bobby had explained the demon that he had captured and kept prison the moment the boys entered the house, no doubt knowing that they could smell the odor the thing emitted. It was sickening how weak and puny the demon was, the repulsive stench made Dean want to gag. He was used to Hell's scent, heavy and thick, a dab of soothing the metallic that always accompanied Alastair, unlike this... lilac shit. Heck, if Dean didn't know any better, he would call her a demon whore, only she would never be good enough to be one.

Sam buried himself deep in the journal about demons while Bobby was reading lightly through the local newspaper. Dean just sat there doing nothing at all. His fingers itched for entertainment… maybe the demon downstairs would like to play with him later.

Dean shook his head once, ridding himself of the thoughts. He was out of hell, free! Yet it only seemed like hell was coming closer and closer with each breath he took. Deep down a voice whispered to him that he could never truly escape… not after the things he’d done. The things he’d _enjoyed_ doing.

His skin prickled. Dean looked down at his arms to see goosebumps rise from his too smooth skin. There was something… a presence. His back stiffened as he turned, feeling as if something was pulling his vision towards it like a magnet. In the distance, he could hear Sam say something, but his words were lost in fog. He suddenly found it hard to breathe, a heavy feeling washed over him. It felt as if his heart was being squeezed by an invisible icy hand. He shivered, and his gaze pulled right through the thick wooden wall. His eyes trailed over the yard where hundreds of cars lay scattered across the graveled ground.

Dean stopped as his sight landed on a small girl in a white dress covered in small cartoon-like bunnies. Another shiver ran down his spine as the girl looked directly back at him. Her eyes flickered white and her apple-red lips stretched into an unnatural grin, twisting her childish features. She lifted her hand, still holding a red lollipop between her small fingers, and waved at him.

Just like that she was gone, as if she’d never stood there in the first place. Dean’s sight was thrown back and he found himself staring right at Bobby’s wall again. He gasped, clutching his chest as the hand let go of its grip and disappeared completely. Leaving only the cold tingling as a reminder of its presence.

“Dean, you okay man?” Sam asked him, worry so clear in those hazel eyes of his. Dean hesitated for a moment. Was everything okay? Of course it wasn’t, but he wouldn’t tell Sam that. So instead he simply nodded.

“Yeah… Yeah, it’s nothing. I was just trying to remember something. Don’t get your panties in a twist, bitch” Sam rolled his eyes at the obvious lie, muttering a silent “Jerk” as he got back to reading. Dean allowed himself a smirk in victory.

Bobby was staring at him from across the small coffee table, a small pull at the corners of his lips. He was glad Dean was back. Hell, he was thrilled to the point that he’d gotten drunk in celebration and not depression for once. But Something was far from okay with his pseudo son. Dean was trying to act as if everything was back to normal, but that’s all it was; an act. Only God knew what he’d been through down there. And if Dean remembered he sure as hell wasn’t saying anything.

While Bobby was in deep thought, Sam was reading through another page looking for something useful. Though he found actually concentrating on the page, where words and letters seemed to be dancing around a bonfire, seemed to be nearly impossible. His mind kept traveling back to crimson red drops of pure power. He could feel his lips go dry at the thought of Ruby’s blood, and with a sticky tongue, he moisturized them. All the while, he kept thinking he would have to call her again soon. Get his next fill and workout session done. _Dean would kill me if he knew,_ Sam thought to himself, returning to the world of words and letters.

“Find anything?” Dean’s bored voice broke the silence that had fallen over the three hunters. Bobby just grunted in response, turning the page of his newspaper. Sam just shook his head, eyes never leaving the page he was on. Dean let out an impatient and annoyed sigh, falling back into the couch.

“It would be easier if you helped, ya know?” Sam snapped at him from behind his book.

“I am helping! Moral support” Dean smirked at his brother, who just rolled his eyes and kept trying to read. It didn’t help that the book was hand written and whoever wrote it had an almost impossible handwriting. His eyes slid over a few words until…

_My research and experience have led me to believe that Hell is vastly different from what people usually describe it to be. The best visual image I can give you is that of a rose. In the center lies a cage with so much negative energy radiating from it that it practically fuels Hell itself. The true nature of this Cage and whether it is literally a cage or just an expression remains mysterious to me. The closer to the Cage it is, the worse Hell becomes. Chinese mythology seems to describe this as 'the eighteen layers of Hell', each layer is assigned for a specific sin and the higher the level, the worse the sins._

_I have tried without much luck to interrogate the demons but it seems even they have troubles getting access to the nearer sections. Supposedly, there are just a few souls unfortunate enough to reach these closer layers. When these poor souls do become demons, they become a different type of demons called the Daevas._

_The Daevas, known also as 'Shadow Demons', are rarely seen and they are bad news. The last time they were spotted, it was around 2000 years before Jesus and from what I heard, I feel lucky that they are no longer around. These beings are vicious creatures, hard to control even with spells and they don't even possess intelligence, consciousness or logics. They will rip, tear and destroy everything in their path without a moment of thoughts. They are effective killing machines due to their nature and once they get loose from their binding spell, they become bloodthirsty and will even kill their summoner if they have the chance._

_How were Daeva created? Is it because they are so close to the Cage that the negative energy affects them differently ? How can we kill them? How close are their section in Hell?... I have so many questions. I have to keep on researching. This is a rare and precious chance to learn more about Hell._

Sam shivered. He remembered the daeva as clear as the scar it left on his chest. He reached up and ran his thumb over the faded scar, the pink skid mark stood out vividly against tanned skin.

“Hey guys, check this out?” Sam said, reading the content of the paper aloud for his companions. Once he finished reading, Bobby was staring at him skeptically.

“Didn’t you boys face off those daeva, or whatever a few years ago?” he asked. Sam nodded, pulling down the collar his shirt to reveal the flare in his skin. Bobby took one look and decided it was not something he’d want to encounter. Hell, the boys were lucky to be alive after something that nasty, especially if the book was anything to go by.

Sam turned towards Dean. His brother had been quieter lately. Not coming with his usual snarky comments, or his stupid appetite ruining a conversation. Now that Sam actually thought about it, he hadn’t really seen Dean eat much of anything ever since he got back from hell. He’d been so glad to have his brother back, he hadn’t bothered to take a closer look at him. For the first time since before hell, Sam took a closer look at Dean where he lied on the couch, staring at the ceiling. His broad shoulders seemed shrunken back somehow, away from their normal soldier-like appearance. It made him appear smaller, more vulnerable somehow. His dirty blonde hair had grown just a little longer, resembling a crow’s nest on top of his head. Dean barely looked like Dean at all…

Meantime, Dean was deep in thought. With eyes fixed on a stain on Bobby’s ceiling, he thought about everything his brother had read. Alastair had once told him about hell resembling a flower, a rose to be exact. “The rose was God’s last gift to Lucifer” he’d told him as he’d carefully carved out another mark, right above Dean’s heart and nearly touching it hadn’t it been for his ribs and lungs getting in the way. Dean had recognized the knife he was using, recognized the feel of dark energy seeping into his skin. Alastair had been honoring him with another scar that night. He subconsciously moved his hand up over his heart, half-expecting to find the familiar bump in the skin. Then he remembered that this wasn’t really his skin anymore, and so his arm fell to his side again.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice finally broke through. Dean snapped back to reality, meeting his brother’s worried eyes.

“You sure you’re okay, man?” Sam asked. Dean turned to find Bobby giving him the same worried look as Sam. A spark of anger tried to ignite in his chest, but he forced it down and pulled his lips up in a painfully fake smile.

“Yeah. Yeah I was just thinking” He excused. Bobby opened his mouth to say something that Dean just knew wouldn’t be good, but a certain prisoner got to it firs.

“Hello? Hellooooooo? Can anyone hear me?” Came the muffled voice from downstairs. Bobby’s jaw clamped shut in annoyance. Dean didn’t know whether he should breathe a sigh in relief, or open a window for fresh air. The invisible cloud of sulfur seemed to get even thicker when she spoke. Nearly suffocating him.

“Please, I’ve already told you everything I know! Please let me go!” She continued. Dean could feel the spark of anger he’d had to compress jump to life once again, stronger this time. His hands shook uncontrollably, and all he really wanted was to remove the demon’s vocal cords before she could say another word. The spark of anger grew into a painfully big fire, and he had to clench his teeth together and suppress the energy flowing through him. The last thing he needed now was for Bobby’s lightbulbs to explode and everyone turn to him for answers he couldn’t give.

“I won’t tell anyone! Please!”

“That’s it! I’ve had enough of that,” Dean said suddenly, standing on his feet with surprisingly little trouble. He didn’t even grunt in pain as he marched over to the stairs. The young hunter disappeared down the steps without a word, leaving the two others alone. If he had to put up with the demon’s annoying pleas and their worried looks for one more second he’d stab himself!

Sam met Bobby’s eyes, and for a second the two just stared at each other. They were both thinking the same thing. Dean got up way too easily considering he had to be carried out of the car. Something was definitely off about Dean, but neither hunter knew what it was or how to approach Dean with the subject. After he’d come back, Dean had been even more closed off than before and making him talk about anything hell-related was a rare occurrence. Even then he kept most of it to himself.

“I’ll go make sure he doesn’t do anything he’ll regret. If you could take care of his clothes… they’re in the bag I brought” Sam said, glancing at the direction that Dean had gone off worriedly. Bobby snorted. "I ain't yer servant, boy. Ya Idjit" He grumbled but got off his chair anyway, leaving the newspaper on the table. Sam closed the leather book carefully before running down after Dean. His brother wasn’t himself these days, and he’d be damned if he’d let Dean do something he’d regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long! So have an over 2000 words long chapter XD


	20. Chapter 20

Sam rushed down the stairs after his brother. He could hear Dean ruffling through the different containers of holy water and dead-man’s blood Bobby had on stash. The tall man practically leaped down the stairs to catch up with his shorter brother, crashing into a stash of old books Bobby had set to the side. The books wobbled dangerously before tipping over, creating a loud bang when colliding with the wooden floor. Sam cursed under his breath. Damn Dean for not even bothering with the lights. And how had Dean managed to so gracefully avoid knocking those books over himself?

 Bobby would kill him later.

The stench of sulfur clung in the air like a thick cloud. Sam tried his best to avoid how his mouth watered at the thought. The sudden need filling his blood. No, no time for that now. He had other things to worry about.

“Dean, you’re not supposed to be walking yet. You need rest, remember?” He said into the darkness, fingers fumbling for the light switch in frantic movements. He could hear Dean in front of him somewhere. Slow, yet determined steps in front of him signaled his brother’s presence.

Finally, he felt the familiar bump in the wall. The light flickered a few times before settling for on. The bright light was a painful change, but he forced his eyes to stay open and adjust. After a few seconds of stings and blinking he could finally see his surroundings. The walls of Bobby’s cellar were near claustrophobic if he hadn’t been so used to them, or tight spaces in general. Different containers of holy water and dead man’s blood were sprawled across the room along with tall stacks of books and other things Sam didn’t even recognize. With all the junk on the ground he wondered how the hell Dean had managed to not knock into something.

“Dean, c’mon man. You need to rest” He called out, following a small path Bobby must have made to be able to actually walk there. A few meters in front of him he could see the silhouette of his brother towering over something. Relieved, he walked closer.

“P-please… please I didn’t do anything, I swear!” Sam stopped dead in his tracks. Although the words were barely above a whisper, he could still hear them all too well.

“Oh really now?” Never before had he heard his brother sound so… dark. That voice barely resembled Dean’s at all. He could see Dean lean closer to the demon tied down to the chair. “You wanna repeat that, honey?”

“He-he forced me! Tortured me. Please sir, I had no choice!” The demon pleaded. Dean got even closer to the demon, leaning down until he was almost touching her ear with his lips. Sam found himself automatically following to be able to hear what was said. His instinct told him he didn’t want to be seen right now, so he crawled behind one of the metal containers and held his breath. It didn’t seem like Dean realized he was there, despite the fact that Sam had tried calling out for him earlier.

Sam didn’t like the fear slowly curling itself around his spine, knowing it was his own brother that was causing it. This situation seemed all kinds of fucked up.

“Listen here, and listen well. You’re nothing. You hear me? Your existence isn’t worth a damn thing in this world. You’re not even worthy to lick the dirt off my boots. So you mention _his_ name one more time and I’ll carve you up like the pig you are. Understand?” Dean hissed. The demon shivered with every words, nodding her head franticly.

“Yes sir! I understand. I’m nothing, nothing at all. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me, sir” Dean let out a dry laugh, making Sam jump in surprise.

“Ha! Forgive you? _You?_ Please… Like I would want to waste my time having you around. Don’t make me laugh” The demon’s eyes widened. Sam watched as Dean raised the demon knife, the blade reflecting the light from the lamp above them. Before the hunter had any time to react, he found himself out jump out from his hiding spot.

“Dean!” He yelled, lashing out with his power. Dean froze as an invisible force wrapped itself around his limbs, rendering him immobile. Sam could feel Dean fight the invisible bonds, trying to bring the knife down without success. The lights above them flickered, sparks flying like the fourth of July. The small distraction was enough for Sam’s hold on Dean’s limbs to loosen.

Next thing Sam knew the knife was thrown, barely missing his head by a centimeter before coming to a sudden stop in the wall behind him. Sam stared at the knife in shock for a few seconds. When he turned back, Dean was staring right at him. Those emerald green eyes of his practically glowed in the blinking lights. With the demon behind him seemingly forgotten, Dean moved towards Sam. His footsteps heavy and precise.

Sam took an unsure step backwards. Something about Dean was definitely wrong. His stance was too serpent-like, his shoulders wide as if he was facing an opponent. Hesitantly, Sam spoke:

“Dean?”

No answer. Dean just kept staring at him. The closer his older brother got, the more afraid Sam started to feel. Was Dean possessed? No… no that didn’t make any sense. Or did it? Was this really his brother? So many questions danced around inside his brain, making his head spin.

“What are you?” He said through clenched teeth. This made Dean hesitate. Sam could nearly see the wheels turning inside his skull, trying to find the answer. Finally, his brother spoke. But not the words Sam had hoped for.

“Does it matter?” A sly, sadistic grin spread across his face, showing of his white teeth. Sam took another step back, crashing into one of the holy water containers. It tipped over, spilling its content all over the floor. Sam soon followed, falling clumsily to the ground. Dean, or whatever it was, took his chance and edged in on him. Soon, his brother was standing over him, looking down at him with that twisted smile of his.

“Get the hell out of my brother” Sam growled, trying not to show his fear. Dean stopped, his smile shrank back into a slight frown.

“Brother?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows. And it was the only word he got out before something hard collided with his head. He hissed in pain as he stumbled back, clutching his forehead to keep the small flow of blood at bay. Sam looked up to see Bobby standing over him with a makeshift wooden bat in his hands. Dean let out an animalistic growl, glaring at the old man with barely any recognition at all.

“Son, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but if you take one more step I’ll knock your bloody teeth out” Bobby yelled. Dean stared at them for a second, completely emotionless.

Then that horrid grin returned and his eyes darkened.

“Okay” He said. Before Bobby could react he was thrown forward by an invisible force. Dean grabbed his collar and pulled him close, slamming their foreheads together with all of his strength. It was one of the most cringe-worthy noises that Sam had heard. And he had heard a lot. This was really something. Shaking his head viciously, Dean bared his teeth while Bobby just stumbled backward, swaying slightly. However, years of hunting had given the older man an edge when it came to fighting and when Dean went to strike again, Bobby was ready. He crouched low to dodge the punch, sweeping out his foot to trip Dean.

What Dean made up for instead of experience was his youthful body. Even colliding with a sweeping motion, Dean just kept coming like a bull. "Are you gonna stand there looking pretty all day, boy? Or are you gonna help?!" Bobby snapped at Sam and Sam shook his head, breaking out of the trance that he was in before rushing into the now 2 on 1 fight. Grabbing Dean from behind, Sam struggled to hold him still.

"Dean, whatever this is, you can fight it. Ya hear me? Fight it!" Sam cried only for Dean to struggle harder before the wild man raised one foot and stomped down on Sam's foot, causing him to release Dean.

Dean grabbed Sam's arm and with a fluid move, slamming him down on the ground. He didn't give up there though. Dean snarled and began to kick Sam's stomach over and over again, snarling and snapping without even holding himself back. The edge of Sam's vision blurred. "I'm sorry for this, Dean." Dean turned his head when Bobby spoke and he barely had time to get out of the way before the bat came swinging down again. However, just as he dodged the swing, two fingers came rest on his forehead and Dean came face to face with a creature he recognized all too well.

"Rest, Dean." The man- _thing_ , said calmly and it took under one second for him to subdue Dean, catching the body as it slumped over.

"Is he... dead? " Bobby asked, rushing over to check on Dean.

"No, he's just sleeping." It said, looking at Bobby and Sam and then took in their bruised and battered state. "What happened?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally an update! I'm so sorry this took so long guys. I really am. But I hope you guys enjoy this chapter at least. Celebrating twenty chapters with some apple juice! Whooo!!!


	21. Chapter 21

**Alastair didn’t sleep. Not because he couldn’t, but more because he saw it as a waste of time. Why sleep when there was so much to do? Sometimes he wondered how the humans had gotten this far in evolution when they slept one third of the time. He’d never understand why God would create such weak and lazy creatures and then put the world in their oblivious hands, and he wasn’t about to start wasting his time trying either.**

**So Alastair didn’t sleep. Yet sitting alone, locked up in this god forsaken motel room on this icicle of a planet with hundreds of books sprawled out before him, he felt really tempted. Why Lilith had assigned him to the reaper task and not some other low-life demon was a mystery. Couldn’t she see that he had more important things to work on? Books upon books surrounded him. The scythe he’d gotten from Death lay next to him. The only positive thing about this mission was that he’d finally get to see if the legends are true about the weapon of Death. And if it really could kill the reapers. He hoped so, after all he had to kill two.**

**That’s when he felt it. A small prickle at his core, a slight nudge in his stomach, telling him that it was time. It only lasted for a few seconds, but he was sure of what it was. Dean Winchester was falling apart. The demon had almost been worried that the angels had managed to pull him out of Dean forever, but now he felt the soft sense of reassurance. No… Dean was still his by essence. And no angel could ever take that away from him. No angel would. He wouldn’t let them.**

**“let the games begin”**

_“You know John never loved you” Alastair hissed into his ear, the words seeping in and taking root deep down. It wasn’t a question, or even a statement. Just a heart-wrecking truth to Dean’s mind. In the beginning he’d denied it, refused to see it with every fiber of his being. But times had changed in the past six years. Oh, how times had changed. Every day Alastair whispered those words to him. He wanted to refuse it, to tell the demon that he was wrong. That his father had loved him. That Alastair was lying…_

_But Alastair never lied, he knew that now._

_“He went to hell for you, because he didn’t want to take care of you anymore. Sam is the one he cared about, not you. Never you. After all… who’s stupid enough to love_ you _?” Even after all these years those words still stung, they had since the first day. Like small drops of poison, they weakened his soul, his mind, his very will to continue._

_“He never loved you. Sam didn’t either. Or that human you call uncle… what was his name again? Robert Singer? None of them ever loved you…”_

_“…Not like I do” The last words were but a whisper in the burning steam suffocating him day in and day out. For a second Dean thought he’d heard wrong. There was no way Alastair would say something like that, not to him. And he hated that some part of him reached out to grasp those words like the only life shaft on the Titanic. There was something oddly grounding with those words. The thought of someone at least appreciated him._

_The crushing truth that he was dependent on others._

_Alastair reached out and gently pressed the back of his hand onto Dean's cheek at the least bruised part of his skin. Dean hated himself when he leaned into the gentle touch, so starved for anything affectionate that he would take it from a demon. Alastair's grin widened a fraction at Dean's reaction. Dean jerked his head away from Alastair's touch, gasping like a drowning man._

_"No. No. Please, no." When Dean gasped out the words, it sounded more like a sob than actual words. Still, Alastair got the general idea. The pain came once again. There was just no escape. None at all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so long for an update. been really distracted lately seing as finals are coming up. And sorry this chapter might be a bit short as well, but like my friend and beta reader told me its better to have a short and complete chapter than a long and incomplete chapter. Speaking of, I want to thank my friend Chiaki for helping me fix my typos and coming up with ideas.   
> Hope you all enjoyed this chapter and again I am so sorry for not updating this.


	22. Chapter 22

The creature lifted Dean like he was nothing, placing him carefully on the bed in the middle of the panic room before turning back to the other humans. He was confident Dean wouldn’t wake up in a while. He’d sought to that.

“What did you do to him?” Sam asked hesitantly, eyes trailing from the trench coated man to his brother and back again. Dean looked peaceful for once, breathing heavy and calm. No worried crease between his eyebrows or slight frown. Hadn’t it been for his rhythmical breathing, Sam would almost have though him dead.

“I did what was necessary to calm him. He should be fine when he wakes up again, but I recommend binding him just in case…” The man trailed off, staring thoughtfully into nothing for a while before continuing. “This was never supposed to happen” He said with a hint of regret in his voice. Sam didn’t know if he was speaking to himself or them. Maybe a bit of both? The man-creature got a distant look in his blue eyes, staring right through Sam it seemed, yet still somehow right at him. His stare sent shivers down his spine.

“My name is Castiel” The man said suddenly, snapping back to reality. Sam noticed Bobby’s sharp intake of breath next to him, not surprised. Dean had told him about the angel who’d saved him from hell, and now that he thought about it, the description fit and he felt almost stupid for not noticing earlier. His mind stormed with things he wanted to tell the angel. _Thank you for saving my brother. It’s an honor to meet you. I can’t believe angels are real._ And so much more. But one look at his brother and all those thoughts evaporated.

“What’s wrong with him?” He heard himself ask. The angel cast a glance at Dean over his shoulder before turning back to face Sam.

“When I found Dean is hell, he was in a terrible state. He had long since abandoned the light and his mind had been twisted and turned by his demonic charge. Your brother’s soul was so dark and tainted that I couldn’t even recognize it as human anymore. But Dean Winchester had to be saved…

…I thought I’d cleansed his soul, but it seems the demonic essence went deeper than I expected. I couldn’t see it before, but it seems that while I’ve been busy, the beast within him has grown stronger” The angel finished explaining. Sam’s mouth felt dry, like he’d tried chewing sand. He could feel a bump in his throat that wouldn’t move no matter how much he swallowed. Castiel was staring at him, his head tilted in a silent question, but he said nothing, and Sam was thankful for that.

“Why did he attack us?” Bobby’s voice broke through the silence. The angel took another look at Dean, studying the sleeping man with keen interest.

“Dean is… confused. He thought he was back in hell. His aggressive nature is something he’s developed from years of torture. I’m afraid his Sire’s influence ran deeper than I thought. And with Alastair’s return to earth-” before the angel could continue, Sam cut inn.

“Wait. Alastair?” he asked, surprise paining the tone of his voice. “you mean the demon we’ve been hunting? The one who took those people? He has something to do with Dean’s stay in hell?” At the mention of Alastair’s name, Dean stirred, mumbling something into the pillow. For a second Sam was sure his brother would wake up. Wake up and tell him that Castiel was wrong. That he was fine. Yet Dean didn’t wake. He twitched in his sleep, a small crease between his brows. Castiel laid a hand against his forehead, and Dean gave a weak smile, falling back into his dream.

“Alastair was Dean’s mentor in hell… I don’t know what the demon did to him for such a drastic change in such a short time. Usually it takes hundreds of years for someone such as Dean to be corrupted. Yet when I found Dean…” The angel trailed off, once again in his own thoughts. Suddenly, Castiel looked up, as if looking for something the humans couldn’t see.

“I have to go” And with those words, he disappeared in thin air with a flutter of wings and feathers the hunters couldn’t see. Sam and Bobby were left alone in the panic room with a sleeping Dean and a completely forgotten demon.

“I can’t believe it… oh my god this can’t be happening” Sam mumbled, pulling his fingers through his hair in an attempt to calm his frustration. When it didn’t work, he had to suppress a growl. Without realizing it, he suddenly found himself in front of the demon who’d been deathly quiet ever since Dean had turned his attention elsewhere.

“You. What did you do to him?” He asked accusingly. Her eyes widened, as she desperately tried to push herself further into the chair. “Answer me!” Sam almost yelled. A warm hand was placed on his shoulder as a result. Bobby’s touch was surprisingly grounding. He allowed himself to be pulled away from the demon and let his “uncle” turn to face him. He cast a glance at Dean over the old hunter’s shoulder. Bobby must have handcuffed him to the bed while Sam was busy fighting emotions and another thing he dared not tell him about.

“She didn’t do anything to him, Sam.” Bobby said, giving Sam that fatherly look that always meant “listen now and listen well”. The old man reached into his pocket before pulling out the note. It was crumbled and speckled with dry blood, but Sam could still read the message

 _Look at the wounded animal Dean… have you the heart to leave it like this?_ ** _KILL IT_**.

 “I found it in his pocket when going through the clothes brought back from the hospital” Bobby explained to him. Sam’s eyes trailed over the note again and again, trying to make sense of the words that were blaringly obvious.

“No… no this can’t… Dean couldn’t have” He mumbled in disbelief. His hands shook, his eyes watered, but he refused to let any tears fall.

“You said he was covered in blood when he came back to the hotel before his… whatever it was. Sam. I hate this as much as you do, but we need to be careful. He’s not so much Dean as we had originally hoped” Bobby said, pointing towards the still sleeping Dean on the bed. Sam shook his head. Before he could react, his legs gave out under him. Luckily, Bobby’s reflexes hadn’t withered with age, and he managed to catch the young hunter before he hit the ground. Sam dropped the note and it fell, crumbled from his clam palm, to the floor.

The demon was for once quiet, just taking in the scene. Observing the potential danger, not daring to open her mouth. She knew one of Azazel’s children when she smelled one. Azazel had been big once, before the other Winchester had killed him to the shock of hell. She had seen the yellow eyed demon once, smelled his scent thick in the air around her. That same scent, or at least pieces of it, clung to the air now. Though that was nothing compared the fumes coming from Dean. She knew it was a smell the humans couldn’t pick up on. But to her kind it was like a big, red X marks the spot. No doubt others of her kind would come to try get their hands on the power Dean possessed without even knowing. Some probably wanted to give Dean back to his rightful owner whereas others would try to exploit the power.

She could be rewarded for this…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the lomg wait people. its been ready for months, but i just haven't uploaded it for some reason .-.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters will be longer btw! This is just an idea I had when re-watching some of the episodes of Supernatural. And it stuck me what a waste Alastair turned out to be. I mean, he spent 40 years in hell with Dean, and boom! Dean is just over it like a bad relationship! Which is kind of bullshit concidering their actual relationship as victim and tormentor/student and teacher. And so this idea hit me, and I wanted to put my own swing on things. So in this you'll read some of my own personal theories on who Alastair really is along with other things as well. So if you're interested, please leave a comment and tell me what you think :)


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